James Goes Forth Verson 1 Railway Wars
by Chris the Metis
Summary: It war! James try get of the trench without end up dead with gung-ho Thomas and dopey Percy and as well face General Henry and his rat Oliver.
1. Chapter 1

Parody of Thomas the tank engine & Friends season 4

I don't own either Blackdder and Thomas the Tank Engine

Sorry for any of those felt insulted because it is a parody that dose not make no sense at all!

**James Goes Forth**

**Main starring**

James the Red Engine as Captain James Redadder

Thomas the Tank Engine as Lieutenant Thomas St. Matthias Brighton

Percy the Small Engine as Private Percy Small

Henry the Green Engine as General Henry Green "Inanity" Stanier

Oliver the Second Great Western Engine as Captain Oliver Great Western

**Captain Cook**  
>"When Field Marshal Tubbyguts Fatty Hatt unveils his new strategy to move his liquor cabinet six inches closer to Crovan's Gate, James volunteers to be official War Artist."<p>

[The dugout. James is sitting in a chair reading a book. A record is playing softly. Scratching noises are heard.]

James: Percy, what are you doing out there?

Percy: I'm carving something on this bullet sir.

James: What are you carving?

Percy: I'm carving "Percy, "sir.

James: Why?

Percy: It's a cunning plan actually.

James: Of course it is.

Percy: You see, you know they say that somewhere there's a bullet with your name on it?

James: Yes?

Percy: Well, I thought if I owned the bullet with my name on it, I'd never get hit by it, 'cos I won't ever shoot myself.

James: Oh, shame.

Percy: And, the chances of there being two bullets with my name on them are very small indeed.

James: That's not the only thing around here that's "very small indeed." Your brain for example, is so minute, Percy, that if a hungry cannibal cracked your head open there wouldn't be enough inside to cover a small water-biscuit.

[Thomas enters.]

Thomas: Tally-ho pip-pip and Bernard's your uncle.

James: In English we say, "Good Morning."

Thomas: Looks what I got for you sir.

James: What?

Thomas: It's the latest issue of "Controllers & Railways." Oh, damn inspiring stuff; the magazine that tells the Tommies the truth about the war.

James: Or alternatively, the greatest work of fiction since vows of fidelity were included in the Union Pacific marriage service. [flicks through paper]

Thomas: Come, come, sir, now. You can't deny that this fine newspaper is good for the morale of the men.

James: Certainly not, I just think that more could be achieved by giving them some real toilet-paper. [hands paper back to Thomas]

Thomas: Not with you at all sir, what could any patriotic chap have against this magnificent mag?

James: Apart from his bottom?

Thomas: Yes.

James: Well look at it. [Takes the paper again] I mean the stuff's about as convincing as Dr. Victor Baldwin and Bad Bob's defence lawyer. The North Western Tommies are all portrayed as six foot six with biceps the size of Knapford.

Thomas: Thoroughly inspiring stuff. And looks sir, this also arrived for you this morning. [Hands papers bag to James]

James: [opening the bag, taking out a Thompson submachine gun] Hmm, do you know what this is, Lieutenant?

Thomas: It's a good old service submachine gun.

James: Wrong. It's a brand new service submachine gun, which I've suspiciously been sent without asking for it. I smell something fishy, and I'm not talking about the contents of Percy's Tidmouth Kipper.

Thomas: That's funny sir, because we didn't order those new trench-climbing ladders either.

James: New ladders?

Thomas: Yeah, came yesterday. I issued them to the men, and they were absolutely thrilled. [Calls to Percy] Isn't that right man?

Percy: [from the doorway] Yes sir, first solid fuel we've had since we burned the cow.

James: Something's going on, and I think I can make an educated guess what it is. Something which you, Thomas, would find hard to do. [They go outside into the trench]

Thomas: Ah, true, true. Where I was at school, education could go hang as long as a boy could hit a six, sing the school song very loud, and take a hot crumpet from behind without blabbing.

James: I, on the other hand, am a fully rounded man with a degree from the university of life, a diploma from the school of hard knocks, and three gold stars from the kindergarten of getting the shit kicked out of me. My instincts lead me to deduce that we are at last about to go over the top. [Peers over the top of the trench with a periscope]

Thomas: Great Scott sir, you mean, you mean the moment's finally arrived for us to give Percvies Huns a darned good North Western style thrashing, six of the best, trousers down?

James: If you mean, "Are we all going to get killed?" Yes. Clearly, Field Marshal Fatty Ass Hatt is about to make yet another gargantuan effort to move his drinks cabinet six inches closer to Crovan's Gate.

Thomas: Right! Bravo-issimo! Well let's make a start eh, up and over to glory, last one in Crovan's Gate a rotten egg.

James: Give me your helmet, lieutenant.

[Thomas hands his helmet to James, who throws it up into the sky. Immediately heavy machine-guns fire is heard. He catches the helmet, which now has more than million holes in it, and gives it back to Thomas.]

Thomas: Yes, some sort of clever hat-camouflage might be in order.

Percy: Permission to speak sir.

James: Granted, with a due sense of exhaustion and dread.

Percy: I have a cunning plan to get us out of getting killed sir.

James: Ah yes, what is it?

Percy: Cooking.

James: I see. [enters the dugout again]

Percy: You know staff HQ is always on the lookout for good cooks? Well, we go over there, we cook 'em something, and get out of the trenches that way.

James: Percy, it's a brilliant plan.

Percy: Is it?

James: Yes, it's superb.

Percy: [delighted] Permission to write home immediately sir, this is the first brilliant plan a Small's ever had! For centuries we've tried, and they've always turned out to be total pigswill. My mother will be as pleased as Punch.

James: Hm-hm, if only she were as good-looking as Punch, Percy. There is however one slight flaw in the plan.

Percy: Oh?

James: You're the worst cook in the entire world.

Percy: Oh yeah, that's right.

James: There are amoebas on Saturn who can boil a better egg than you. Your Filet Mignon in sauce Bearnaise looks like dog-turds in glue.

Percy: That's because they are.

James: Your plum-duff tastes like it's a molehill decorated with rabbit-droppings.

Percy: Oi thought you'd wouldn't notice.

James: Your cream custard has the texture of cats' vomit.

Percy: Again it's . . .

James: If you were to serve one of your meals in staff HQ you'd be arrested for the greatest mass poisoning since Diesel the Devious invited 1000 of his close friends and relatives around for a oil-and-anthrax party. No, we'll have to think of a better plan than that.

Percy: Right, how about a nice meal, while you chew it over?

James: [suspicious] What's on the menu?

Percy: rat. [shows him a big black rat] Saute or fricassee.

James: [peers at the rat] Oh, the agony of choice. Saute involves . . . ?

Percy: Well, you take the freshly shaved rat, and you marinade it in a puddle for a while.

James: Hmm, for how long?

Percy: Until it's drowned. Then you stretch it out under a hot light bulb, then you get within dashing distance of the latrine, and then you scoff it right down.

James: So that's sauteing, and fricasseeing?

Percy: Exactly the same, just a slightly bigger rat.

James: Well, call me Old Mr. Unadventurous but I think I'll give it a miss this once.

[Thomas enters, wearing a new hat decorated with barbed-wire.]

Percy: Fair enough sir, more for the rest of us.  
>[To Thomas] Eh sir?<p>

Thomas: Absolutely, Private. Tally-ho BARF BARF.

[The telephone rings, James picks it up.]

James: Hello, the Savoy Grill. Oh, it's you . . . yes . . . yes, I'll be over in 40 minutes.

Percy: Who was it then sir?

James: Strangely enough Percy, it was the Vicar inviting me for drinks aboard his steam-yacht "The Crazy Scruffy," currently wintering in Brendam Bay with the Sodor Cricket team and the insane fatties of plenty.

Percy: Really?

James: No, not really. I'm ordered to HQ. No doubt that idiot General Henry is about to offer me some attractive new opportunities to have my brains blown out for North Western.

[At staff HQ. Oliver is at his desk writing; James enters.]

James: What do you want, Oliver?

Oliver: It's Captain Oliver to you. General Henry wants to see you about a highly important secret mission.

Henry: [enters] What's going on, Oliver?

Oliver: Captain James to see you sir.

Henry: Ah, excellent. Just a short back and sides today I think, please.

Oliver: Er, that's Corporal Toad, sir. Captain James is here about the other matter sir, the [lowers his voice] secret matter.

Henry: Ah, yes, the special mission. At ease James. Now, what I'm about to tell you is absolutely tip-top-secret, is that clear?

James: It is sir.

Henry: Now, I've compiled a list of those with security clearance, have you got it Oliver?

Oliver: Yes sir.

Henry: Read it please.

Oliver: It's top security sir, I think that's all the Captain needing to know.

Henry: Nonsense! Let's hear the list in full!

Oliver: Very well sir. "List of personnel cleared for mission Tidmouth, as dictated by General Henry: You and me, Oliver, obviously. Field Marshal Hatt, Field Marshal Hatt's wife, all Field Marshal Hatt's wife's friends, their families, their families' servants, their families' servants' tennis partners, and some chap I bumped into the mess the other day called Pug."

Henry: So, it's maximum security, is that clear?

James: Quite so sir, only I and the rest of the Broad-Gauge railway world is to know.

Henry: Good man. Now, Field Marshal Hatt has formulated a brilliant new tactical plan to ensure final victory in the field. [They gather around a model of the battlefield]

James: Now, would this brilliant plan involve us climbing out of our trenches and walking slowly toward the enemy sir?

Oliver: How can you possibly know that James? It's classified information.

James: It's the same plan that we used last time, and the seventeen times before that.

Henry: E-E-Exactly! And that is what so brilliant about it! We will catch the watchful Hun totally off guard! Doing precisely what we have done eighteen times before is exactly the last thing they'll expect us to do this time! There is however one small problem.

James: That everyone always gets slaughtered the first ten seconds.

Henry: That's right! And Field Marshal Hatt is worried that this may be depressing the engineers a tadge. So, he's looking to find a way to cheer them up.

James: Well, his resignation and suicide would seem the obvious solution.

Henry: Interesting thought. Make a note of it, Oliver! Take a look at this: "Controllers' & Railways."

James: Ah, yes, without question my favourite magazine; soft, strong and thoroughly absorbent.

Henry: Top-hole James, I thought it would be right up your alley. Now, Field Marshal Hatt's plan is this; to commission a men to do an especially stirring painting for the cover of the next issue, so as too really inspire the men for the final push. What I want you to do, James, is to labour night and day to find a first rate artist from amongst your men.

James: Impossible sir. I know from long experience that my men have all the artistic talent of a cluster of colour-blind hedgehogs . . . in a bag.

Henry: Hm, well that's a bit of a blow. We needed a men to leave the trenches immediately.

James: Leave the trenches?

Henry: Yes.

James: Yes, I wonder if you've enjoyed, as I have sir, that marvellous painting in the National Portrait Gallery, "Bag Interior," by the colour-blind hedgehog workshop of Wellsworth.

Oliver: I'm sorry, are you saying you can find this men?

James: I think I can. And might I suggest sir that having left the trenches, it might be a good idea to post our men to Abbey [points on Henry's map], in order to soak up a little of the artistic atmosphere. Perhaps even Suddery [points], so as to produce a real masterpiece.

Henry: Yes, yes, but can you find the men?!

James: Now I know I can sir. Before you say "Sunflowers" I'll have Peter & Gunvor Edwards standing before you.

[Back in the trenches. James is painting, but Thomas is looking over his shoulder.]

Thomas: No, don't stop sir. It's coming. It's definitely coming. I, hm, yeah, ah, er, hm. I just wonder if two socks and a hand-grenade are really the sort of thing that covers of "Controllers & Railways" are made of.

James: They will be when I painted them being shoved up the Kaiser's backside.

[Thomas walks over to Percy.]

Thomas: Ah, now, now this is interesting.

Percy: What is?

Thomas: Well, Private Percy is obviously some kind of an impressionist.

James: The only impression he can do is of a man with no talent. What's it called Percy? "The Vomiting Cavalier?"

Thomas: That's not supposed to be vomit; its dab of light.

Percy: No, it's vomit.

Thomas: Yes, now er, why did you choose that?

Percy: You told me to sir.

Thomas: Did I?

Percy: Yeah, you told me to paint whatever comes from within, so I did my breakfast. Look. There's a little tomato.

James: Hopeless. If only I'd paid attention in nursery art-class instead of spending my entire time manufacturing paper-mache willies to frighten Dennis.

Thomas: You know it's funny, but painting was the only thing I was ever any good at.

James: Well, it's a pity you didn't keep it up.

Thomas: Well, as a matter of fact I did, actually. I mean [takes out pictures] I mean normally I hadn't thought I would show them to anyone, because they're just embarrassing daubs really, but you know, ah, they give me pleasure. I'm embarrassed to show them to you now as it happens, but there you go, for what their worth. To be honest, I should have my hands cut off, I mean . . .

James: Thomas! These are brilliant! Why didn't you tell us about these before?

Thomas: Well you know, one doesn't want to blow one's own trumpet.

James: You might at least have told us you had a trumpet. These paintings could spell my way out of the trenches.

Thomas: Yours?

James: That's right, ours. All you have to do is paint something heroic to appeal to the simple-minded Tommy. Over to you Percy.

Percy: How about a noble Tommy, standing with a look of horror and disgust over the body of a murdered nun, what's been done over by a nasty Old Skaries.

Thomas: Excellent. I, I can see it now; "The nuns and the Skaries."

James: Brilliant! No time to lose. Thomas, set up your easel, Percy and I will pose. This is going to be art's greatest moment since Mavis sat down and told Toby Tram she was in a slightly odd mood. Percy, you lie down in the mud and be the nun.

Percy: I'm not lying down there, it's all wet.

James: Well, let's put it this way; either you lie down and get wet, or you're knocked down and get a broken nose.

Percy: Actually it's not that wet, is it?

James: No. [pushes Percy down, splat]

Percy: Whom are you going to be then sir? The noble Tommy?

James: Precisely, standing over the body of the ravaged nun.

Percy: I want a wimple.

James: You should have gone before we started the picture.

Percy: You know, the funny thing is, my father was a nun.

James: [firmly] No he was.

Percy: He was so, sir. I know, 'cos whenever he was up in court, and the judge used to say "occupation," he'd say "nun."

[Thomas enters, dressed in painters' smock and hat, carrying a palette and easel.]

James: Right. [To Thomas] You're ready?

Thomas: Just about sir, yes. Erm, if you just like to pop your clothes on the stool.

James: I'm sorry?

Thomas: Just pop your clothes on the stool over there.

James: You mean, you want me . . . tackles out?

Thomas: Well, I would prefer so sir, yes.

James: If I can remind you of the realities of battle Thomas, one of the first things that everyone notices is that all the protagonists have got their clothes on. Neither we, nor the Skaries, favour fighting our battles "au naturel."

Thomas: Sir, it's artistic licence. It's willing suspension of disbelief.

James: Well, I'm not having anyone staring in disbelief at my willies suspension. Now, get on and paint the bloody thing, sharpish!

[Later. The painting is ready.]

James: Brilliant Thomas, it's a masterpiece. The wimple suits you Percy.

Percy: But it completely covers my face.

James: Exactly. Now then, General Henry will be here at any moment. When he arrives, leave the talking to me, all right? I like to keep an informal trench, as you know, but today you must only speak with my express permission, is that clear? [Sharply] Is that clear? [With a note of regret] Permission to speak.

Thomas: \ Yes sir, absolutely.

Percy: / Yes sir.

Oliver: [outside] Attention! [Entering] Dugout, attention!

[Henry enters.]

Henry: Excellent, at ease. Now then James, where would you like me to sit? I thought just a simple trim of the moustache today, nothing drastic.

Oliver: We're here about the painting sir.

Henry: Oh, yes, of course. [Seeing Thomas] Good Lord, Thomas, hahahaaa, how are you my boy? [Nothing] I said how are you?

James: Permission to speak.

Thomas: Absolutely top-hole sir, with a yin and a yang and a yippetty-doo.

Henry: Splendid! And your uncle Stepney sends his regards. I told him you could have a week off in April; we don't want you missing the Boat Race, do we?

James: Permission to speak.

Thomas: Certainly not. Permission to sing boisterously sir?

James: If you must.

Thomas: Row, row, row your boat,

Henry: [joins in] gently down the stream. Belts off, trousers down, aren't life a scream. HAI!

James: Fabulous, university education, you can't beat it.

Henry: Bravo, now [moving onto Percy] what have we here? Name?

James: Permission to speak.

Percy: Percy, sir.

Henry: Ah, tallyho, yippety-dip, and zing zang spillip. Looking forward to bullying off for the final chukka?

James: Permission to speak.

[Silence.]

James: Answer the General Percy.

Percy: I can't answer him sir, I don't know what he's talking about.

James: Aah, are you looking forward to the big push? [pinches Percy's cheek]

Percy: No sir, I'm absolutely terrified. [pinches Henry's]

Henry: The healthy humour of the honest Tommy. Hahaaa, don't worry my boy, if you should falter, remember that Captain Oliver and I are behind you.

James: About thirty-five miles behind you.

Henry: Right, well stand by your beds. Let's have a look at this artist of yours, James. Next to me, Oliver.

Oliver: Thank you sir. [sits down next to Henry]

Henry: So, ah, have you found someone?

James: Yes sir, I think I have; none other than young Thomas here.

Henry: Oh, bravo. Well, let's have a shufti then.

James: This is called "War." [shows his own painting]

Henry: Damn silly title Thomas. Looks more like a couple of his socks and a stick of pineapple to me.

Thomas: Ah, permission to speak sir?!

James: Er, I think not actually.

Henry: Quite right, if what happens when you open your mouth is anything like what happens when you open your paintbox, we'd all be drenched in phlegm. Oh no, this isn't what we're looking for at all, is it Oliver?

Oliver: No sir.

Henry: No sir!

James: There is this sir, it's Private Percy's, [shows painting] he's called it "My family and other animals".

Henry: Oh, good Lord no.

James: Well, I'm afraid that's about it sir. Apart from . . . this little thing. [Show Thomas's painting]

Henry: Ah, now, that's more like it!

Oliver: Who painted this James?

James: Well actually it was I.

Thomas: Permission to speak, really quite urgently sir!

Henry: Damn and blast your goggly eyes! Will you stop interrupting, Thomas! Now, this is excellent! [Shakes James's hand] Congratulations man! It's totally inspiring, makes you want to jump over the top and yell "Yah-boo sucks to you, Festers."

James: Thank you sir.

Oliver: Are you sure you did this, James?

James: Of course I'm sure.

Oliver: I'm afraid I don't believe you.

James: How dare you Oliver!? [To Henry] You know I can't let that slur pass, sir . . . What possible low, suspicious, slanderous reasons could this "office-boy" have to think that I didn't paint the picture?

Oliver: Well, three reasons as a matter of fact. Firstly: you're in it.

James: It's a self-portrait.

Oliver: Secondly: you told us you couldn't paint.

James: Well, one doesn't want to blow one's own trumpet.

Thomas: Permission . . .

James: Denied.

Oliver: And thirdly: it's signed "Thomas."

James: [walks over to painting, looks closely at the corner] Well spotted. But not signed "Thomas," dedicated "to Thomas," Lord Thomas. Gentlemen; The Lord!

All: [snapping to attention] The Lord!

Percy: Where?

Henry: Bravo James, I have absolutely no hesitation in appointing you our official regimental artist. You're a damn fine chap, not a pen-pushing, desk-sucking, blotter-jotter like Oliver here, eh Oliver?

Oliver: No sir.

Henry: No sir! Well, accompany us back to HQ immediately.

Oliver: Attention!

[Henry and Oliver exit.]

Thomas: Permission to jolly well speak right now sir, otherwise I might just burst like a bally rat.

James: Later Thomas. Much later.

[At Headquarters.]

Henry: Congratulations on your new appointment, James.

James: Thank you sir.

Oliver: And may I say James, I'm particularly pleased about it.

James: Are you?

Oliver: [smugly] Oh Yes.

Henry: Now that you are our official war-artist, we can give you the full briefing. The fact is, James, that the "Controllers & Railways" cover story was just A.. Cover story. We want you, as our top painting bod, to leave the trenches . . .

James: Good.

Henry: Tonight . . .

James: Suits me.

Henry: And go out into no-men's-land.

James: No-man's-land.

Henry: Yeeeeeees.

James: Not Suddery.

Henry and Oliver: Noooooooo.

Henry: We want you to come back with accurate drawings of the enemy positions.

James: You want me to sit in the no-man's-land, painting pictures of the Skaries.

Henry: Precisely! Good man!

James: Well, it's a very attractive proposition, gentlemen, but unfortunately not practical. You see. My medium is light. It'll be pitch dark; I won't be able to see a thing.

Henry: Ah, hm, that is a point. I tell you what: we'll send up a couple of flares. You'll be lit up like a Christmas tree.

James: Oh, excellent, excellent, glad I checked.

[James, Percy and Thomas crawling across the no-man's-land.]

James: All right, total and utter quiet, do you understand? So for instance if any of us crawl over any barbed wire they must on no account goaaAAAAAAAAAAHH!

Percy: Have you just crawled over some barbed wire sir?

James: No Percy, I just put my elbow in a blob of ice cream.

Percy: Oh, that's all right then.

James: Now, where the Hit are we?

Thomas: Well, it's difficult to say, we appear to have crawled into an area marked with mushrooms.

James: [patiently] What do those symbols denote?

Thomas: Pfff. That we're in a field of mushrooms?

James: Lieutenant that is a military map, it is unlikely to list interesting flora and fungi. Look at the key and you'll discover that those mushrooms aren't for picking.

Thomas: Good Lord, you're quite right sir, it says "mine." So, these mushrooms must belong to the man who made the map.

James: Either that, or we're in the middle of a minefield.

Percy: Oh dear.

Thomas: So, he owns the field as well?

[Machine-guns fire.]

Thomas: [yelling] THEY'RE FIRING SIR, THEY'RE FIRING.

[The guns stop.]

James: Ah yes, thank you Lieutenant. If they hit me, you'll be sure to point it out, won't you. Now come on, get on with your drawing and let's get out of here.

Thomas: Well, surely we ought to wait for the flare sir? You see, my medium is light.

James: Just use your imagination for heavens' sake. [Thinks] Wait a minute, that's the answer. I can't believe I've been so stupid.

Percy: Yeah, that is unusual, 'cos usually I'm the stupid one.

Thomas: Well, I'm not over-furnished in the brain department.

James: Well, on this occasion I've been stupidest of all.

Thomas: Oh, now sir! I will not have that! Percy and I will always be more stupid than you. Isn't that right Percy? [Standing up] Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Percy: Yeah, [standing up also] stupidly, stupidly, stupidly.

[Flares are fired, lighting up Thomas and Percy. James cowers on the ground.]

Thomas: Stupidest stupids in the whole history of stupidity nesses.

[Machine-gun fire; Percy and Thomas jump down; the guns stop.]

James: Finished? I think the obvious point is this: we'll go straight out to the dugout and do the painting from there. You do the most imaginative, most exciting possible drawing of Skaries defences from your imagination.

Thomas: Oh I see, now that is a challenge.

James: Quite. Come on, let's get out of here.

Thomas: Oh sir, just one thing. If we should happen to tread on a mine, what do we do?

James: Well, normal procedure, Lieutenant, is to jump 200 feet into the air and scatter yourself over a wide area.

[Back at Headquarters.]

Oliver: Are you sure this is what you saw James?

James: Absolutely. I mean there may have been a few more armament factories, and [looks sideways at Thomas] not quite as many elephants, but . . .

Henry: Well, you know what this means . . .

Oliver: If it's true sir, we'll have to cancel the push.

Henry: Exactly . . .

Thomas: Damn!

James: What a nuisance . . .

Henry: ...Exactly what the enemy would expect us to do, and therefore exactly what we will not do!

James: Ah.

Henry: Now, if we attack where the line is strongest, then filth ball will think that our reconnaissance is a total shambles. This will lull him into a sense of false security, and then next week we can attack where the line is actually badly defended. And win the greatest victory since the Hackenback flower-arranging team beat Haultraugh by twelve sore bottoms to one!

James: Tell me, have you ever visited the planet Earth, sir?

Henry: So, best fighting trousers on, James!

Thomas: Permission to shout "Bravo" at an annoyingly loud volume sir?

Henry: Permission granted.

Thomas: [annoyingly loud volume] BRAVO!

Henry: That's the spirit. Just your kind of caper eh eh, James?

James: Oh yes.

Oliver: Good luck against those elephants . . .

[James and Thomas salute and leave.]

[In the dugout.]

James: Get me a chisel and some marble Percy.

Thomas: Oh, you're taking up sculpture now sir?

James: No, I thought I'd get my headstone done.

Thomas: What are you going to put on it?

James: "Here lies James, and he's bloody annoyed."

Percy: Are we going' over, are we sir?

James: Yes, we are. Unless I can think of some brilliant plan.

Percy: Would you like some "rat-au-van" to help you think? [shows James a tin plate with a very flat rat on it]

James: "Rat-au-vin?"

Percy: Yeah, its rat that's been . . .

James: [joins in]. Run over by a van. No thank you Percy. Although it gives me an idea. Telephone please.

[Headquarters, later that night. Henry and Oliver are dining.]

Oliver: I suppose James and his boys will have gone over the top by now.

Henry: Yes. God, I wish I were out there with them, dodging the bullets, instead of having to sit here drinking this chateau Lafaiete, eating this Filets Mignon in sauce Bearnaise.

Oliver: My thoughts exactly sir. Damn this Chateau Lafaiete.

Henry: He's a very brave men, James. And of course that Lieutenant of his, Thomas, Ffarquhar man you know. His uncle Bertie and I used to break wind for our college. Slightly unusual taste, this sauce Bearnaise . . .

Oliver: Yes sir, and to be quite frank, this mignon are a little . . . well . . .

Henry: What?

Oliver: Well, dingy.

Henry: What on earth's wrong with our cook?

Oliver: Well, it's a rather strange story sir.

Henry: Oh? Tell, tell.

Oliver: Well sir, I received a phone call this afternoon from Abbot Old Bean, telling me that our cook had been selected for the Crosby Cricket team and must set sail for the France immediately.

Henry: Really?

Oliver: Then a moment later, the phone rang again. It was a trio of wandering German chefs, who happened to be in the area, offering their services. So I had the quartermaster take them on at once.

Henry: Ah, hm, Hm, HM, Ah, Oh, OH! Jumping giblets! Are you sure these are real raisins in this plum-duff?

Oliver: Oh yes, I'm sure they are sir. Everything will be all right, once the cream custard arrives.

[Back in the dugout. James, Thomas and Percy enter, wearing cooks' aprons and huge black false moustaches. Percy is carrying a jug and a small cat.]

Thomas: Well all jolly good fun sir. But dash it all, we appear to have missed the big push.

James: Oh damn, so we have. One thing puzzles me Percy; how did you manage to get so much custard out of such a small cat?


	2. Corporal Punishment

Parody of Thomas the tank engine & Friends season 4

I don't own either Blackdder and Thomas the Tank Engine

Sorry for any of those felt insulted because it is a parody that dose not make no sense at all!

**James Goes Forth**

**Main starring**

James the Red Engine as Captain James Redadder

Thomas the Tank Engine as Lieutenant Thomas St. Matthias Brighton

Percy the Small Engine as Private Percy Small

Henry the Green Engine as General Henry Green "Inanity" Stanier

Oliver the Second Great Western Engine as Captain Oliver Great Western

Corporal Punishment  
>"Orders for Operation Insanity arrive and James breaches regulations by eating the messenger - who just happens to be General Henry's closet boyhood friend."<p>

**Guest Starred:**  
>Edward the Blue Engine as Sergeant Edward Bluebill<br>Bill the Tank Engine Twin as Corporal Bill Bluebill  
>Ben the Tank Engine Twin as Corporal Ben Bluebill<br>BoCo the Diesel as Corporal Bob Connery or BoCo  
>Cranky the Crane as Corporal Cranky Crane<br>Mike the Small Red Engine as Sergeant Mike Redman

-  
>James: You'd like to book a table for three by the window for 9.30 PM, not too near the band, in the name of Opel-ointment Fungentula. Yes, yes, I think you might have the wrong number. Alright.<p>

(hangs up; enter Thomas)

Thomas: Rather close line there, eh sir? That phone system is a shambles no wonder we haven't had any orders!

James: Oh, on the contrary, Thomas, we've had plenty of orders. We have orders for six metres of Ice and Snow crushed velvet curtain material, four rock salmon and a ha'pence of chips and a cab for a Mr. Shadow picking up from 14 Arnost Rove Aintop Bell.

Thomas: Rather we don't want those sort of orders, we want orders to Deck Old Glory. When are we going to give Skaries a taste of our firing spunk?

James: Thomas, please. No one is more anxious to advance than I am, but until I get these communication problems sorted out, I'm afraid we're stuck. (phone rings) Captain James speaking...no, I'm afraid the line's very cclllffffhhtttt!

Oliver: Hello? Hello, Captain James, hello?

(a Skaries slang pops up; really James. He rustles paper, pretending the re-ception's lousy.)

James: Octtack, Octtack, Die Runt, I said, there's a terrible line at my end. You are to advance on the enemy at once. (puts on a record) "A wandering minstrel eye in the...(record goes off, James speaks) ..on Gail Force Eight.

Thomas: I say, come on, sir, what's the message? I'm on tenderhooks, do tell!

James: Well, as far as I can tell, the message was, "he's got a terrible rash up his end, so there's an advantage to an enema at once."

Thomas: Damn!

(enter Percy)

Percy: Message from HQ, sir.

Thomas: Ah, now, this should be it. A telegram ordering an advance!

James: Ummm yes, I'm afraid not, Thomas, it is a telegram, it is ordering an advance, but it seems to be addressed to 'Catpain Tames'. Do you know a 'Catpain Tames', Thomas?

Thomas: Well, it rings a bell, but I..

James: Ouhh...nope, me neither. (throws message away)

Thomas: Oh well.

James: Go away Thomas, I'm sure if they want to contact us, they'll find a way.

Percy: Speaking, sir, speaking, there's a pigeon in our trench!

Thomas: Ah, now, this'll be it! (goes outside) Yes, it's one of the Lord's carrier pigeons.

(all go outside)

Percy: No, it isn't, that pigeon couldn't carry the Lord! Hasn't got a tray or anything.

James: Hands, shotgun please.

Thomas: Oh now, sir, you really shouldn't do this you know!

James: Come on Thomas, with 500,000 men getting killed a week who's going to miss a pigeon? (Blast the pigeon dead)

Thomas: Well, not you, obviously, sir.

James: In any case, its's scarcely a court martial offence. Get plucking, Percy.

Percy: Alright, sir. Look, it's got a little ring 'round it's leg, there's a novelty!

Thomas: Oh really, is there a paper hat as well?

Percy: No, but there's a joke. Read it out, sir.

Thomas: It's a bit charred. Something something at once..PS, due to communication crisis, the shooting of carrier pigeons is now a court-martial offence. I don't see what's so funny about that, sir. (Casts along with Percy and James a worried look "Oh crap, we're screwed!".)

James: That's not funny, it's deadly serious, we're in trouble. So, I shall eat the evidence for lunch and if anyone asks you any questions at all, we didn't receive any messages and we definitely did not shoot this plump breasted pigeon.

(at James's quarters...James just had the pigeon for lunch.)

James: Umm..delicious.

(enter Henry and Oliver)

Henry: Eahy, James!

Oliver: Attention!

Henry: And why, Captain, are you not advancing across No Men's Land?

James: Well, sir, call me a buffo traditionalist, but I was always taught to wait for the order to attack before attacking.

Henry: Are you trying to tell me you haven't received any orders? What the Hit are you playing at, Oliver?

Oliver: That's a flagrant lie, sir. I spoke to James less than an hour ago.

James: Yes you did. To tell me some gobbledygook about having a badger up your bottom.

Henry: Umm...I thought it's the old communications problem again. Stand easy. Action on this is imperative, take that down, Oliver.

Oliver: Yes. use it more often in conversation.

Oliver: I must say sir, I find this all very unlikely. Not only did I telephone James, but as you'll recall, we sent him a telegram and a carrier pigeon.

James: Did you?

Oliver: Are you telling us you haven't had a pigeon, James?

James: Ohaaahhh! Jim", my only true love who's been with me since I was a nipper! And to business, I'm giving you your order to advance now. Synchronise watches gentlemen. Private, what is the time?

Percy: We didn't receive any messages and Captain James definitely did not shoot the delicious plump breasted pigeon, sir.

Henry: WHAT?

James: You want to be cremated, Percy or buried at sea?

Percy: (thinking it over) Umm...

Oliver: Lieutenant?

Thomas: Sir.

Oliver: Do you mind answering a couple of questions?

Thomas: Not at all, sir. We didn't get any messages and James definitely did not shoot this delicious plump breasted pigeon.

James: Good.

Oliver: And look sir, pigeon feathers. White feathers very apt, eh James?

Henry: White feathers?

Percy: Oh no, sir, that's gobbleijuke! They're not white, they're sort of speckly!

Henry: (shocked) Speckly?! AAHHHHHHHH! YOU SHOT MY SPECKLED JIM?

Oliver: You're for it now, James. Quite frankly sir, I've suspected this for some time. Quite clearly, Captain James has been disobeying orders with a breathtaking impertinence.

Henry: I don't care if he's been watering the Duke of Wales with a prize- winning leak! He shot my pigeon! (screams) AAAHH AHHHH OOOHHHH! (Moves to attack James.)

Oliver: (Restraining Henry.) Take it easy. I think we should do this by the book, sir.

Henry: Yes, yes, you're right, of course. I'm sorry. Attention!

Oliver: (drums are heard in the background) Captain James, as of this moment you may consider yourself under arrest. You know what the penalty is for disobeying orders, James?

James: Umm..court-martial, followed by immediate cessation of chocolate rations?

Oliver: No, court-martial followed by immediate death by firing squad.

James: Oh, so I got it half right.

(at the cell)

Mike: (James's guard) Sadder than a happy hour then, sir? Wave all our last goodbyes.

James: Oh, no need for that, Mike, I'll just dash off a couple of notes, one asking for a sponge bag, and the other sending for my lawyer.

Mike: Oh, your lawyer now, yes sir. Don't you think that might be a bit of a waste of money, sir.

James: Not when he's the finest mind in Sodor legal history. Ever heard of Teddy Boston?

Mike: Oh, yes indeed, sir! A most gifted gentleman!

James: I remember Teddy's most famous case, the case of the bloody knife. A men was found next to a murdered body, he had the knife in his hand, thirteen witnesses that seen him stab the victim, when the police arrived he said, "I'm glad I killed the bastard." Teddy not only got him off, but he got him knighted in the New Year's Honours list, and the relatives of the victim had to pay to have the blood washed out of his jacket.

Mike: There is a job under the prosecution involved, sir.

James: Yes, well, look at Diesel Tenworth.

Mike: Oh, Diesel Tenworth.

James: A big, bearded, bonking, Diesel Tenworth. The terror of the ladies. 1000 illegitimate children, world heavyweight boxing champion, and author of the best-selling pamphlet, "Why I Like To Do It With Girls". Teddy had him sent down for being a whoopsie. (enter Percy) Ah, Percy. Anything from Teddy yet?

Percy: Yes, sir. It just arrived, sir.

James: What is it?

Percy: Sponge bag, sir.

James: A sponge bag.

James: Percy, I gave you two notes. You sent the note asking for a sponge bag to the finest mind in North Western legal history.

Percy: Certianly did, sir!

James: And you sent the note requesting legal representation to...

(enter Thomas)

Thomas: Well, tally-ho, with a bing and a bong and a buzz-buzz-buzz! (THUMP!)

James: (disgustingly) Oh God!

Thomas: I'll tell you, apart from all, sir, that I am deeply, deeply honoured.

James: Percy, I'll deal you later. Am I to understand that you are going to represent me at the court-martial?

Thomas: Absolutely, sir. Well, it's a sort of family tradition, really. My uncle's a lawyer, you know.

James: Your uncle's a lawyer, but you're not.

Thomas: Oh, good lord, no. I'm absolute duffer at this sort of thing. In school the basing society, I was voted the boy least likely to complete a coherent...um...an oops...yes, anyway, my dear old friend, its an honour to serve.

James: Thomas, I'm in trouble here. I need to construct thats as watertight as a mermaid's brassiere. I'm not sure your particular brand of mindless optimism is going to contribute much to the proceedings.

Thomas: Well, that's a shame, sir, because I was planning on playing the mindless optimism card very strongly.

James: I beg your pardon?

Thomas: Yes, I've already planned my closing address based on that very thing. Oh, go on, let him off, your honour, please! It's a lovely day. Pretty clouds, trees, birds, etc. I rest my case.

James: So, council, with that summing up in mind, what do you think my chances are?

Thomas: Well, not all that good I'm afraid, as far as I can tell you're as guilty as a cat sitting next to a pile of poo.

James: Ah.

(in the court room; James's trial is taking place)

Thomas: (walking in) Crikey! So sorry I'm late, my luv.

A voice: 'allo.

Thomas: But anyway, let me open up my defence straight away, by saying that I've known this man for three years, he's an absolutely gawking chap.

James: Thomas?

Thomas: Yes, sir?

James: That's the clerk of the court.

Thomas: Is it? Oh!

James: We haven't started yet.

(enter Oliver)

Oliver: Good luck, James.

James: Well, thank you, Oliver. And what's your big job here today? Straightening chairs?

Oliver: No, in fact I'm appearing for the prosecution. I wouldn't raise your hopes too much, you're guilty as Hit, you haven't got a chance.

James: Why thank you, Oliver. And I hope your mother dies in a freak yachting accident.

Oliver: Just doing my job, James.

James: Obeying orders, and of course, having enormous fun into the bargain. I wouldn't be too confident if I were you, any reasonably impartial judge is bound to let me off.

Oliver: Well, absolutely.

James: Who is the judge, by the way?

Henry: (boldly) Me!

James: I'm dead.

Henry: Well, come on, then. Come on. Get this over in five minutes, and then we can have a spot of lunch. (some noise from the others) The court is now in session, General Sir Henry Green Stanier in the chair. The case before us is that of the crown vs. Captain James Redadder, the slanderous pigeon murderer! Oh, uh hand me the black cap, I'll be needing that.

James: I love a fair trial.

Henry: Anything to say before we kick off, Captain Oliver?

Oliver: May it please the court, as this is clearly an open and shut case, I beg leave to bring a privets prosecution against the defence council for wasting the court's time.

Henry: Granted. Council, he is fined fifty pounds for turning up. This is fun! This is just like a real court! Alright! Let the trial begin! The charge before us is that the slanderous pigeon murderer did deliberately, callously, and with manliness of forethought murder a lovely, innocent pigeon. And disobeyed some orders as well. Is this true?

Thomas: Perfectly true, sir. I was there.

James: Thanks Thomas.

Thomas: Oh, dammit.

Henry: Right. Council for the defence, get on with it.

Thomas: Oh, right, yes, right. Um, yes. I'd like to call my first witness Captain Oliver.

Henry: You wish to call the council for the prosecution as a defence witness?

Thomas: That's right. (aside) Don't worry, sir, I've got it all under control. You are Captain Oliver of the general staff?

Oliver: I am.

Thomas: Captain, leaving aside the incident in question, would you think of Captain James as the sort of men that would usually ignore orders?

Oliver: Yes, I would.

Thomas: Ah, um. You sure? I was rather banking on you saying no.

Oliver: I'm sure. In fact, I have a list of other orders he's disobeyed, if it would be useful. March 1st, 9:15am, 10:23am, 10:24am, 11:17am...

Thomas: You missed one out, there.

Oliver: ...10:30am, 11:46am...

James: Thomas!

Thomas: What? Oh, oh ye-ye-right, yes. Thank you, Captain. No further questions.

James: Well done, Thomas. You really had him on the ropes.

Thomas: Don't worry, old man. I have a last and I think you'll find decisive witness. Call Private Percy Small.

James: (to Percy) Deny everything, Percy.

Thomas: Are you Private Percy Small?

Percy: NO!

Thomas: Um, but you are Captain James's batman?

Percy: NO!

Thomas: Come on, Percy. Be a bit more helpful, it's me!

Percy: No it isn't!

Oliver: Sir, I must protest!

Henry: Quite right! We don't need your kind here, Private. Get out. Sum up, please.

Thomas: Oh, right, yes, uhhhh, oh...(James slides him a piece of paper he's written on.) Uh, gentlemen, you have heard all the evidence presented here today, but in the end it is up to the conscience of your hearts to decide, and I firmly believe, that like me, you will conclude that Captain James is in fact, totally and utterly, GUILTY (Sits down, James turns the paper over and Thomas jumps back up)...of nothing more than trying to do his duty under difficult circumstances.

Henry: Nonsense! He's a hound and a rutter, and he's going to be shot! However, before we proceed to the formality of sentencing the deceased, I mean the defendant, (laughs) I think we'd all rather enjoy the case of the prosecution. Captain Oliver, if you please.

Oliver: Sir, my case is very simple. I call my first witness, General Sir Henry Green Stanier.

Henry: Ah..umm! (goes up to the stand)

Thomas: Clever, clever.

Oliver: General, did you own a lovely, plump, speckily pigeon called Speckled Jim, which you hand reared from a chick and which was your only childhood friend?

Henry: (hysterical) Yes! (calmer) Yes, I did.

Oliver: And did Captain James shoot the aforementioned pigeon?

Henry: Yes, he did!

Oliver: (shouts) Can you see Captain James anywhere in this courtroom?

Henry: (overwrought, pointing his finger at James) YES, THAT'S HIM! THAT'S THE MEN! AAHHHHH AAAAHHHHHH!

Oliver: No more questions, sir.

Henry: Very good, excellent, first class. Carry on. I therefore have absolutely no hesitation in announcing that the sentence of this court is: that you Captain James be taken from this place and shot to death by shooting tomorrow at dawn. (bangs gavel). Do you have anything to say?

James: Yes, can I have an alarm call, please?

(at the cell)

Mike: Someone to see the Captain?

James: What does he look like?

Mike: Short, ugly...

James: Hello Percy.

Percy: I brought you some food, sir, for your final breakfast tomorrow.

James: Ah, so you're not pinning much hope on a last minute reprieve then.

Percy: No sir, you are as dead as some doo-doos.

James: The expression, Percy, is 'as a do-do'. 'Dead as a do-do'.

Mike: Well, I'll leave you to it then, shall I? (leaves)

Percy: Do not despair, sir. All my talk of food was just a dead herring. In fact, I have a cunning plan. This is not food, but an escape kit.

James: Good Lord! A saw, a hammer, a chisel, a gun, a change of clothes, a Irish passport, and a huge false moustache, I may just stand a chance.

Percy: Ah...  
>James: Let's see, what have we here? A small painted wooden duck.<p>

Percy: Yeah, I thought if you get caught near water, you can balance it on the top of your head as a brilliant disguise.

James: Yeeeesss, I would, of course, have to escape first. Ah, but what's this, unless I'm much mistaken, a hammer and a chisel?

Percy: You *are* much mistaken!

James: A pencil and a miniature trumpet.

Percy: Yes, a pencil so you can drop me a postcard to tell me how the break out went and a small little tiny miniature trumpet in case during your escape, you have to win favour with a difficult child.

James: Percy, I don't want to spend my last precious hours rummaging through this feeble collection of stocking-fillers. Now let me ask you some simple questions: is there are a saw in this bag?

Percy: No.

James: A hammer?

Percy: No.

James: A chisel?

Percy: No.

James: A gun?

Percy: No.

James: A false passport?

Percy: (thinks) No.

James: A change of clothes?

Percy: Yes sir, of course I wouldn't forget a change of clothes.

James: Ah, now that's something, let's see...a chicken costume.

Percy: I put in a chicken's outfit first, but then I thought 'What if you arrive in a village and they're in the middle of a fancy dress party?'

James: And what if I arrive in a village, dressed in a chicken costume and there *isn't* a fancy dress party?

Percy: Well, to be quite frank sir, I didn't consider that eventuality, because if you did, you'd stick out like a...

James: (interrupting) Like a man standing in a lake with a small painted wooden duck on his head?

Percy: Exactly!

(re-enter Mike)

Mike: Excuse me, sir.

James: Alright. Aaahhmm, thank you, Percy, we'll finish this picnic later.

Percy: (rather loudly) YUM YUM! (exits)

Mike: Do you mind if I disturb you for a moment, sir?

James: No, no, not at all. My diary's pretty empty this week. Let's see, Thursday morning, get shot, yes, that's about it, actually.

Mike: It's just there's a few chaps out here would like a bit of a chinwag.

James: Oh, lovely. Always keen to meet new people.

Mike: Sergeant Edward Bluebill and Corporal Bill & Ben Bluebill, Bob Connery, and Cranky Crane

All: Hello

James: Oh, nice of you to drop by. And what do you do?

Edward (Oldest): We're your firing squad, sir.

James: Of course you are. You three are brothers?

Bill (Edward's younger brother): Yup! Good sized chest.

Edward: Shut up, lad.

Bill: Sir!

Edward: You see, us firing squads are a bit like tax men, sir, everyone hates us, but we're just doin' our job, 'haven't we, sir?

James: (Sarcastically.) My heart bleeds for you.

Edward: (Chuckles.) Well, sir, we aim to please. Just a little firing squad joke there, sir! You see, sir, we take pride in the terminator service we supply. So, is there any particular area you'd like us to go for, hmm? We can aim anywhere.

James: Well, in that case, just above my head might be a good spot.

Edward: (Laughs.) You see, a laugh and a smile, and all of a sudden the job doesn't seem quite so bad after all, does it sir?

Ben (Bill's twin): No, and a lovely roomy forehead.

BoCo: A good pulse and jugular, there as well.

Cranky: Good position of a heart suppose to be.

James: Look, I'm sorry, I know you mean to be friendly, but I hope you won't take it amiss if I ask you to sod off and die. (Squad looks shocked and start to growl.)

Edward: (Calming his men.) No, no, no, no, no, no, no, fair enough, 'course not, sir. No one likes being shot first thing in the morning, do they? No, no, no, So, look forward to seeing you tomorrow, sir. You'll have a blindfold on of course, but you'll recognize me. I'm the one that says, "Ready, aim, fire!"

James: Can I ask you to leave a pause between the word "aim" and the word "fire"? Thirty or forty years, perhaps?

Edward: Ahh, wish I could pause, sir. I really wish I could, but I can't, you see, cos I'm old, you see.

(Firing Squad leaves)

James: Perfect! I wonder if anything on earth could depress me more?

(enter Percy)

Percy: Excuse me, sir?

James: Of course it could.

Percy: I forgot to give you this letter from Lieutenant Thomas, sir.

James: (sarcastically) Ahh! Oh, joy! What wise words from the world's greatest defence counsel. (reads letter) 'Dear Mother,'...un- usual start, (continues) 'thanks for the case of Billy's Exploding Vodka.' You've excelled yourself, Percy. You've brought the wrong letter again!

Percy: Ohh yeah, he did write two.

James: Yes, his mother's about to get a note, telling her he's sorry she's going to be shot in the morning...while *I* have to read this drivel. (reads further) 'Count Squaddie thrives in the Pony Club trials and that little Stepney scores a century for the first eleven'. (aside) You can't deny, it's a rivetting read...uhhh, 'Send my love to Uncle David Mitton', (aside) who'd have thought it, Mad Uncle David, Minister of War. Power of life or death over every bally soldier in the army. Hang on a minute...this is it! All Thomas has to do is send him a telegram and he'll get me off. (in a pleasant tone) Percy, I love you! I want to kiss your cherry lips and nibble your shell-like ears. I'm freeeee!

(at James's quarters, Thomas is moping)

Thomas: I'm useless, useless!

Percy: Sir, sir!

Thomas: Hello Private, how's the Captain?

Percy: He's absolutely fine, sir, but..

Thomas: uhh, you're just trying to cheer me up. I know the truth. He hates me cos I completely arsed up his defence.

Percy: Yes, I know, sir, but..

Thomas: I'm thick, you see. I'm as thick as the big-print version of The Complete Works of Britt. If only I could've saved him. If only!

Percy: But you *can*, sir.

Thomas: What, how?

Percy: You send a telegram.

Thomas: Of course! I send a telegram.

Percy: Yeah!

Thomas: Who to?

Percy: To the person in the letter.

Thomas: What letter?

Percy: To your mother.

Thomas: I send a telegram to my mother?!

Percy: No!

Thomas: No!

Percy: You send a telegram to the person in the letter to your mother.

Thomas: Who was in the letter to my mother?

Percy: I can't remember!

Thomas: Well, think, think!

Percy: No, you think think!

Thomas: Well, I ahh...Stay here, of course, the Pony Club Trials. Yes! See here, they can leap over the walls over the prison and save him.

Percy: No, no!

Thomas: No, no, ahhhmm. Yes, cricket. Yes, I've got Cousin Stepney, of course. He can knock out the firing squad with his cricket bat.

Percy: No, there's someone else!

Thomas: (excited) Oh well, who!?

Percy: I don't know.

Thomas: Well, neither do I!

Percy: Well, think!

Thomas: You think!

Percy: You think that!

(both continue argument, then Percy punch Thomas right at the nuts...)

Thomas: (squeaky voice) No, it hasn't helped.

Percy: Yes it has, sir. Your Uncle David Mitton who's just been made Minister of War.

Thomas: (Normal Voice) Of course. Uncle David the Minister of War. Percy, I'll, I'll send him a telegram and he'll, he'll pull strings and scratch backs and fiddle with nobs, and...

Percy: HURRAY!

Thomas: Well, I got there in the end, eh Percy?

Percy: Oh, just about, sir.

Thomas: Ah, I think this calls for a celebration, don't you? What about a toss of old Billy's Exploding Vodka, which Mum has just sent over? I drink a toast, don't you, to Captain James and freedom!

Percy: Captain James and Freedom, sir.

(outside, where James is to be executed; Dawn, a cock crows)

James: (Cheerfully.) 'Morning.

Firing Squad (all): 'Morning.

Mike: I must say, Captain, I've got to admire your balls.

James: Perhaps later. (to Firing Squad) How are you doing?

All: Very well, good.

James: Cranky, good to see you.

Cranky: Good to see you, too, sir.

James: Ahh, Sergeant, how's the voice?

Edward: Excellent, sir.

James: So the phone's on the hook, is it Mike?

Mike: Oh yes, sir.

James: So, where do you want me?

Edward: Well, up against the wall is traditional, sir.

James: Course it is. Ah...this side or the other side? (all laugh) No messengers waiting, Mike?

Mike: Oh, I'm afraid not, sir. Oh well.

Edward: Alright, lads, line up.

James: Yes, uahh...now look, I think there might have been a bit of a mis- understanding, you see. I was expecting a telegram.

Edward: ATTENTION!

James: Quite an important one, actually.

Edward: TAKE AIM!

Mike: Stop!

James: I think that's what they call 'the nick of time'.

Mike: Letter for the Captain.

James: Of course it is. Read it please.

Mike: Eh, 'here's looking at you. Love from all the boys in the firing squad.'

Edward, Bill, Ben, Boco, & Cranky: (Cheerful) Aaaahhhhh!

Edward: You soft bastard, you!

Boco: After all we've got, I couldn't resist it!

James: (sarcastically) How thoughtful!

Edward: ATTENTION!

James: Now look, ah, something has gone spectacularly badly wrong.

Edward: TAKE AIM!

James: Percy, you're mincemeat!

(at James's quarters)

Thomas: (awaking) Oh, my head! Ah, my head! Feels like the time I was initiated into the Silly Buggers society at Brendam. I misheard the rules and push a whole oberjing into my earhole.

Percy: Permission to die, sir.

Thomas: Oh! Bu-bu-bu-what started this drinking? Oh, yes, well, we were celebrating getting Captain James off scot...(realises it's too late) free. Oh my sainted trousers, we forgot!

Percy: Oh whoops.

Thomas: Oh no. He's dead, you see. He's dead dead dead because we're a pair of selfish so and so's...(despairingly) oh, course, if I have a rope, I'd put it around my neck and bally well hanged myself until it really hurt.

(James walks in)

James: Hi, Thomas, 'morning, Percy. Still the striking resemblance to guppies fish at feeding time. Yep, it arrived in the nick of time.

Thomas: Oh, excellent!

James: Ah, so you've got the vodka out, haven't we?

Thomas: Oh, well, well, of course, sir, yes. We wanted to lay on a bit of a bash for your safe return, ah..here you go. (gives James a drink, laughs)

James: There was a second telegram that arrived actually Thomas, addressed personally to you by your Uncle.

Thomas: Oh, thank you, I...(tries to get letter from James, who opens and reads it)

James: (reads) 'Tommy, my boy, Outraged to read in dispatches how that ass Henry made such a pig-ear out of your chum James's court-martial. Have reversed the decision forthwith. Surprised you didn't ask me to do it yourself, actually.' Now this is interesting, isn't it?

Thomas: Uh, uhh, yes, well, I, you see, sir. Uh..the thing is..

James: You two got whammed last night, didn't you?

Thomas: We– well, well, no, uh, uh. not whammed exactly. A little tiddly, perhaps.

James: And you forgot the telegram to your Uncle!

Thomas: Well, n-n-n-no. Not, not, not completely. Partially, umm...Well yes, yes. Entirely.

Percy: I think I can explain, sir.

James: Can you, Percy?

Percy: (pause) No.

James: As I suspected. Now, I'm not a religious men, as you know. Henceforth, I shall nightly pray to the God, who killed Lady of Hamilton and squashed Mallard, that He comes out of retirement and gets back into practice on the pair of you!

(phone rings; James answers it)

James: Captain James. Ah, Captain Oliver. Well, you know, some of us just have friends in high places, I suppose. Yes, I can hear you perfectly. You want what? You want two volunteers for a mission into No Men's Land, Code name: Operation Certain Death. yes, yes I think I have just the fellows. (hangs up; to Thomas and Percy) God is *very* quick these days.


	3. Major Star!

Parody of Thomas the tank engine & Friends season 4

I don't own either Blackdder and Thomas the Tank Engine

Sorry for any of those felt insulted because it is a parody that dose not make no sense at all!

**James Goes Forth**

**Main starring**

James the Red Engine as Captain James Redadder

Thomas the Tank Engine as Lieutenant Thomas St. Matthias Brighton

Percy the Small Engine as Private Percy Small

Henry the Green Engine as General Henry Green "Inanity" Stanier

Oliver the Second Great Western Engine as Captain Oliver Great Western

**Major Star**  
>"The Southern Revolution produces two appalling results - an offensive by Skaries and a really offensive City Truro impression by Percy."<p>

**Guest Starred:**  
>Molly the Yellow Engine as Driver Bob Molly Holden (Molly)<p>

Scene 1: The dug out

James is sitting on his bunk reading a book with Thomas whistling an off-key tune in the background

Thomas: You a bit cheesed off sir?

James: Thomas, the moment this awful war began I was cheesed off. Withing ten minutes of you turning up...I finished the cheese and moved on to the coffee and cigars. And at this stage I'm in a taxi, with two maid friends heading for the Pink Pussycat Club in lower Regent Street

Thomas: Because sir if you are a bit cheesed off there's one that'll cheer you up, and that's a City Truro I love the old City, don't you agree sir!

James: Actually no. I find 'is films about as funny as getting an arrow through the neck and then discovering there's a gas bill tied to it!

Thomas: Begin your pardon Cap, but come off! His films are ball bounce funny!

James: They're rubbish

Thomas: Alright, why let's consult the men for a casting vote, shall we? (Calls) Percy!

(Enter Percy)

Percy: Sir?

Thomas: City Truro, Percy. What do you think of him?

Percy: Oh sir, he's as funny as a vegetable that's grown into a rude and amusing shape, sir.

James: So you agree with me then! Not funny at all!

Thomas: oh c'mon sir! In that last film of his when he kicked that Frenchmen in the ass-end I thought that I'd die!

James: Well if that's your idea of comedy, we can provide our own without spending a hay'penny for the admission

(James takes off Percy's hat and drops it on the floor. When Percy bends down to pick it up, James kicks him in the ass-end)

James: Did you find that funny?

Thomas: Well of course not sir! But City Truro is a geniuses

James: They certainly is a genius Thomas! They's found a way to get paid a $million a year for wearing a pair of stupid trousers! Did you find that funny Percy?

Percy: What funny sir?

(James did what he had done a second ago)

James: That funny

Percy: No sir! And you shouldn't do that sir. Cause that is a borjour act of repression!

James: What?

Percy: I think I smelt it sir, there's something afoot in the wind. The huddled masses yearning to be free!

James: Percy, have you been at Sergeant Charlie Purple's tank's oil again?

Percy: No sir! I've been sopping the milk of freedom. Already, our Southern' comrades are poised on the brink of revolution. And here too, sir, the huddled what's-names such as myself, sir, are ready to throw off the hated oppressors like you, and Lieutenant. Present company accepted, sir

James: Go clean out the bogs

Percy: Yes Sir! Right away sir!

Thomas: Now the reason why City is so funny...

James: Oh no

Thomas: ...is that he's part of the great music hall tradition

James: Oh yes! The great Sudric music hall tradition. Two man with completely unconvincing cockney accents saying, "What's up with you then?"  
>"What's up with me then?"<br>"Yeah, what's up with you then?"  
>"I'll tell ya what's what's up with me is that I'm right browned off! That's what's up with me!"<br>"Right browned off..."  
>(Shouts) GET ON WITH IT!<p>

Thomas: (Chuckling) Now sir that was funny! You should go on the pulls yourself!

James: Why thank you Thomas, but I don't think I can keep up with the excitement!

(Cheering from outside. Enter Percy with a newspaper)

Percy: Sir, sir, it's all over the trenches!

James: Well, mop it up then!

Percy: No! No sir, the news. The Southern' revolution has started! The masses have risen up and shovelled their knobs!

Thomas: Well hoorah!

James: (Reading newspaper) Oh no! The Southern have pulled out of the war!

Thomas: Well we soon saw them off didn't we? Miserable, slant eyed, cake eating swine!

James: The Southern Railway were on our side

Thomas: Really? Oh!

James: And they've abandoned the northern front

Percy: And they've overthrown and shot Robert who used to be bizzare.

James: Who used to be THE TSAR! Any way, since this new communist regime has made peace with Kaiser Percival, over half a million Skarloey troops are leaving the north and coming over here. With the purpose of using my balls for target practice! There's only one thing, I'm going to have to desert, and I'm doing it right now

(Enter General Henry, unexpectantly)

Henry: You leaving us captain?

James: No sir

Henry: Good, because I want your help to shoot some deserters later on. There have been some adverse muttering amongst the men. You'll recall the Small army at Ballamaddey, where the top officers experienced horrendous uprisings from the bottom

James: Yes sir. But that was traced to a shipment of chocolate

Henry: Nonsense! And now that the Southern have followed suit, I'll be dashed if I let the same thing happen here

James: So, what are we going to do sir?

Henry: We're going to have a concert party to boost the men's morale

Thomas: A concert party?! Well hurrah!

Henry: You fancy a night at a concert party Captain?

James: Well, quite frankly sir, I'd rather spend a night on top of a step ladder in No Men's Land smoking endless cigarettes through an illuminous balaclava!

Henry: Yes, I knew it's wasn't quite your cup of tea. But we are looking for someone to organize it though. Not a tough grizzled soldier like yourself, but some damp eyed, Nancy boy who is prepared to spen the rest of the war in the Suddery Palladium

James: The show's going to the Suddery Palladium sir?

Henry: Well it's no use crushing a rebellion over here only to return to Suddery where everyman is wearing overalls and breaking wind in the halls of St. Louc! So I've come up with a cunning set of questions, in which to test a candidate's suitability

James: And what questions would these be sir?

Henry: Well the first question is, do you like City Truro

James: (To Thomas) Dismissed Lt. (Thomas exits) "Do you like City Truro?" Indeed a cunning question. To which my answer would be, yes! I love them! Especially the amusing kicks

(Thomas sticks his head round the dug-out's entrance)

Thomas: Funny sir! Cause I thought...

James: Goodbye Thomas!

Henry: And the section is do you like music hall?

James: Ah yes, another brilliant question. To which my answer would be yes! Absolutely love it sir! (Starts singing in a cockney accent) "Whoops! Mr. Breeching, 'Ow's ya axes an' knives!"

Henry: Yes, well if a candidate said yes to both of those questions, I'd assume that they were the perfect for the jo...WAIT A MINUTE! Without knowing it captain, you've shown me that you can do the job

James: Have I sir?

Henry: Yes sir! You have sir! And I want you to start work straight away. Let's say a couple of shows over this weekend and hopefully we'll start you off in Suddery, well, next Monday

James: Oh dash!

Henry: Now if you need help with backstage and so on, I'll lend you my driver if you want (Calls) Bob!

(Enter a young female girl)

Bob: (Militaristically.) Driver Bob Holden reporting for duty sir!

Henry: Stand easy Bob! Stand easy. Captain James, this is Bob Holden

James: Bob?

Bob: Good morning sir!

James: Unusual name for a girl

Henry: Well it would be an unusual name for a girl. But it's a pretty straight forward name for a young chap like you, eh, Bob? Now Bob I want you to bunk up with the captain here for a few days

Bob: Yes sir

Henry: I think you two'll get along James, he has a splendid sense of humour

James: He sir? He? HE?

Henry: You see! You're laughing already! If you two have got some spare time, you could get to know each other. Play a game of cribbage

(Henry departs)

James: So, you're a chap are you Bob Holden?

Bob: Oh yes sir. Hahaha! Grrrrr!

James: Well, let me put it another way Bob, You ARE a girl. And you're a girl with as much talent for disguise as a lion in dark sunglasses trying to get into a 'Wildcat Only' golf club! And I'm gonna tell, right now

Bob: Oh no sir! Please don't give me away! I just wanted to be like my brothers and sign up. I wanted to see how a war is thought, so badly

James: Well, you've come to the right place Bob! A war hasn't been fought this badly since Baxter the Insane, high chief of all the Vikings, accidently ordered 500,000 battle helmets with the horns on the inside

Bob: I want to do my bit for the boys sir!

James: oh really?

Bob: I'll do anything sir

James: Yes, but I'd keep that to myself if I were you Ok Bob?

Scene 2: The dug out

(Bob and James are sorting through the acts)

James: Right Bob. Th second half starts with Private Mavis and Toby as "The Three Silly Twerps". The big joke being there's only two of them

(Percy chuckles)

Percy: I know that, it always cracks me up, sir.

James: Followed by Percy's impression of City Truro

(Percy put's on a bowler hat)

Yes, Bob take a telegram will you?

Bob: Yes sir

James: City Truro  
>Great West Studios, Swindon<br>Congrats. STOP. Found only men in world less funny than you. STOP. Name: Percy. STOP. Yours Captain James. Oh and put a P.S. Please, please, please. STOP. Then we have ladies and gentlemen, the highlight of our show

Percy: Ta-da...

(Enter Thomas wearing a frock)

Thomas: I feel fantastic!

James: Gorgeous Tomelia. The traditional soldier's drag act

Percy: You look absolutely lovely, sir.

James: Percy, the Lt. looks like what all troopers look on these occasions as feninate as W.G. Grace! At least you've made an effort with the dress, what about your costume Percy?

Percy: I'm in it, sir.

James: I see, so you City Truro costume consists only of that hat

Percy: Yay sir. (Get's out a matchbox) Except that in this box, I've a dead slug as a brilliant false moustache.

James: How are you to attach it to your face?

Percy: Well, I was hoping to persuade the slug to cling on, sir.

James: Percy, the slug is dead. If it failed to cling on to life, I see no reason why it should cling on to your upper lip

Thomas: Percy, slugs are always a problem. What you want to do is to screw your face up like this, so you can clamp it between your top lip an' ya nose

Percy: What? Like this, sir? (Percy screws his face up and tilts his head backwards)

Thomas: That's it! Sir, sir, there's a visitor to see you

James: (Being sarcastic) Good lord, Mr. Truro! This is indeed an honour! This calls for some sort of celebration. Percy! Percy!

Thomas: Sir! That is extraordinary because this isn't Truro at all! This IS Percy!

Percy: It is, it's *me*, sir!

James: I know, I know. I was in fact being sarcastic

Thomas: Oh!

James: everything goes over you head doesn't it Thomas? You should go to Spain and become a limbo dancer

Scene 3: Opening night

(Applause. James is counting box office money. While Bob has watched Thomas finished performing)

Bob: They love him, sir. We're a hit!

James: Yes, within the span of one night, I've become the most successful impersonation since the manager of the Canadian Pacific Railway decided to put Brits and Yanks on the same bill

Percy: Sir, some people seem to think I was best! Do you agree?

James: Percy, there are tribes in the Amazon untouched by civilization that have developed more convincing City Truro impressions than yours

Bob: He's coming off

(Thomas enters through the curtain carrying a bouquet of flowers)

Thomas: What do you think, Bob, one more? God, I love attention! (goes off stage to join James and company) It's in my blood and in my soul! Percy put these in some water will you? Well what'd you think captain. I know I was hopeless wasn't I?

(Percy dunks the flowers into the vase upside-down)

Thomas: I need that applause in the same way that a osler needs his osle.

Bob: Well done, sir!

James: Well...

Thomas: Now, you're just trying to be nice sir, but I can take it. I mean I was hopeless wasn't I sir?

James: Well...

Thomas: Come now, be brutally honest

James: Thomas...you were completely awful!

(Thomas breaks into heavy sobs)

But you can't argue with the box office! Personally I thought you were the worst impressionist since Catch Me Who Can went through Rocket's lunch box and ate his coal. But since I'm in a minority, look out Suddery! Here we come...

Scene 4: Staff HQ

(Oliver is sitting at his desk. Enter James)

James: Ah, Oliver!

Oliver: Ah, Jamie. I must say James I had the most splendid evening

James: I'm glad you enjoyed the show

Oliver: The show? I didn't go to the show. I had important regimental business to take care of

James: A lorry load of paperclips arrive?

Oliver: Two lorry loads actually

(Enter Henry)

Henry: Welcome to the great director! Maestro!

James: You enjoyed it then sir?

Henry: Well it was mostly awful, but I did enjoy the slug balancer

James: Private Percy sir?

Henry: Yes, the slug fell off a couple times, but you can't have everything can you! I just suggest a little more practice and perhaps a little sparkly costume for the slug

James: I'll pass that on sir

Henry: But I saw the show as nothing but a triumph! Now, Oliver has all your all your travel arrangements, rooms at the Ritz and so on

James: Oh

Henry: However, there is one thing you can do for me

James: (Uneasy) Yes

Henry: Captain James, I would considerate a single honour, if you would let me escort your leading lady to the regimental ball this evening

James: My leading lady?

Henry: The fair Tomelia

James: Ah yes sir! Very amusing

Henry: Do you think she'll laugh in my face? I'm too old, too crusty?

James: No sir, it's just that as her director I don't think that I could allow it

Henry: I could always find another director who WOULD allow it

James: Well quite. But I insist sir that she'd be home by midnight and there is to be no hanky-panky of any sort

Henry: I will of course respect your wishes captain. But I don't think you have to be so protective. I think you'll find she a great deal more spunk than most do men you find!

James: Well...quite, sir

Scene 4: The dug-out

(Thomas is still wearing his frock)

Thomas: Absolutely not sir! It profoundly immoral and totally wrong! I shall not do it

James: We could always find another leading lady

Thomas: Well the dress will need a clean

James: Excellent. Now, there are three things you must do to make the general in no way suspect that you are a jack. The first is never remove your wig. Secondly don't say anything. I've told him that you're saving your voice for the opening night in Suddery

Thomas: And what's the third?

James: The third is simple. Don't get drunk and let him do perverted things to you on the ground!

Scene 6: Staff HQ

(Henry is putting on his dinner jacket with Oliver at his side)

Henry: How do I look Oliver?

Oliver: Girl bait sir!

Henry: Whiskers: springy enough?

Oliver: Absolutely sir. You'll be combing girls out of them for weeks

Henry: It's a gorgeous beautiful world and tonight's my night. I know exactly what I say to her. "I want to make you happy Oliver, I want to build a nest for your tiny toes. I want to cover every inch of your gorgeous body in pepper, and then...sneeze all over you!"

(Oliver is starting to feel sick)

Oliver: Sir, please! No more sir!

Henry: What is the matter with you today Oliver?!

Scene 8: The dug out

(James is still waiting for Thomas)

James: Where is that Thomas? It's three o clock in morning! He was supposed to be back three hours ago. He should be careful walking the trenches at night with nothing to protect his honour but a cricket bat

(Enter Thomas)

Thomas: Hullo captain

James: It's about time! Where have you been?

Thomas: Oh, it was all like a dream really, my very first ball. The candles, the music, the dancing

James: So, old Henry try for a snog behind the fruit punch did he?

Thomas: Certainly not! The general acted like a perfect gentlemen. We tired the night away with our talk of everything and nothing. The war, marriage, proposed changes to the LBW rule

James: (Concerned) Henry isn't married is he?

Thomas: Oh no sir. All of his life he's waited for someone special to come along and tonight, she did

James: So some poor do men had old walrus face dribbling in her ear all evening

Thomas: Now that you've come to mention it, I did have to drape a napkin over my shoulder

James: Thomas, are you trying to tell me that you are the general's perfect mate?

Thomas: (Thomas looks coy) Well, I suppose I am

James: Well just be lucky the old blighter didn't ask you to marry him

(Thomas looks coy again)

HE DID!? How did you get out of that one?

Thomas: I'm not at all sure I did sir

James: What!

Thomas: You didn't know what it was like sir

James: YOU SAID YES!?

Thomas: But, it was all so magical. And when we went out on the balcony, looked into that star strewn sky, those springy whiskers. Then he looked me in the eyes and said, "Kitty, I love you"

James: KITTY!?

Thomas: Yes sir, he say's my nose looks just like a kitty's

James: Oh God! We're in serious trouble. If the general were to find out that gorgeous Tomelia was in fact a six-footer from the rough end of the trench, it could put forward the fastest execution since someone said, "This Dodge bloke, do we let him off or what?"

(Field telephone rings)

James: Hullo?...Yes sir, straight away sir. (Hangs up) That was your fiancee...Kitty! He want's to see me. If I should die, think only this of me...I'll be back to get you!

Scene 9: Staff HQ

(Oliver is standing next to a desk to where Henry is sitting at. Enter James)

James: Sir, I can explain everything

Henry: Can you captain? Can you?

James: Well...not really

Henry: I thought not, I thought not. Who could explain the mysteries of love. I in love with Tomelia, I'm going to marry her on Saturday and I want you to be my best man

James: Well, before you continue sir, I must tell that...there's something wrong with fiancee sir

Henry: Oh my God, she's Russian is she?

James: No sir. This is a sad story but true. Just a minute ago, Tomelia arrived unexpectedly in my trench. She was dancing with joy as if something wonderful had happened to her

Henry: (To Oliver) Makes sense

James: Unfortunately, she was in such a daze that she danced over the top of the trench and straight out into No Men's Land. Before I could yell, "Don't tread on a mine," She trod on a mine

Henry: NO!

James: Well, it was actually a cluster of mines and she was rocketed up into the air. And she said something, not completely comprehensive to me. Something like, tell him his little...kitty will love him forever

Henry: Oh, Howl! Howl! Howl!

Oliver: Oh that's heart breaking sir!

James: I'm sorry sir

Henry: (Suddenly perking up) Oh well, can't be helped

Oliver: Bad luck isn't it sir?

Henry: Hey ho

Oliver: (To James) Because with out your leading lady, you won't be able to put on a show. So, no show, no Suddery Palladium

James: On the contrary, I simply have to rename it, "The Tomelia-Stanier memorial show"

Henry: Oh No! Tomelia was the only thing that made the show come alive. Apart from her it was all awful

James: Awful?

Henry: You'll never find another girl like Tomelia by tomorrow

James: That's where you're wrong sir, because I think I have

Henry: Who is she?

Oliver: Who is she?

Scene 10: The dug out

(Thomas and James are sitting at a table conversing)

Thomas: So c'mon sir, who is she?

James: Well that's the problem isn't it? I haven't a bloody clue! I haven't even got a clue, which is less than a clue

Thomas: So, we're a bit stuck are we?

(Enter Bob)

Bob: Mornin' chaps!

Thomas: Morning Bob

James: Morning Bob. You can say that again Thom, We're in the stickiest situation since Sticky, the stick insect, got stuck on a sticky bun

(Enter Percy wearing a dress)

Percy: Not anymore sir. May I present my cunning plan

James: Don't be ridiculous, Percy. Can you sing, can you dance? Or are you offering to be sawn in half?

Percy: I don't think those things are important in a modern marriage, sir. I offer simple home cooking

James: Percy, our plan is to find another leading lady for our show, what is your plan?

Percy: My plan is that I will marry General Henry. I am the other woman

Thomas: Well, congrats Private! I hope you two will be very happy together

Percy: I will, sir, cause when I get back from honeymoon, I will be a member of the Crewe friends and you will have to call me 'Milady'

James: What happened to your revolutionary principles Percy? I thought you hated the friends of Crewe

Percy: I'm working to bring down the system from within, sir. I'm a sort of a frozen horse. Any how I don't see what it be wrong to marry for money and not having to sleep in the puddle

James: First of all it Trojan Horse Percy and No! It's the worst plan since Ogmund the Smart decided, "Oh, I'm sick of fighting round the house tonight. Let's go take in a show." Secondly, the general is in mourning for the woman of his dreams. He's not going to be in the mood to marry a green hair idiot wrapped in a curtain. And lastly, we're looking for a great entertainer. And you're the worst entertainer since Dorchester the evangelist toured Canadian Pacific with his drinking act

Thomas: What about Corporal Harvey Dubs?

James: Harvey is a Raj. I've heard of the Métis, but the Intis just isn't on

Thomas: Barford?

James: Too short

Thomas: Kattlepot?

James: Too weak

Thomas: Neil?

James: Too old

Thomas: Godred

James: Too dead

Thomas: Sergeant Derek Paxmen?

James: Too gassed. Oh I give up! There just isn't anyone!

(They hear Bob singing)

Bob: Goodbyyyyeeeee  
>Goodbyyyyeeeee<br>Wipe the tear,  
>Baby dear,<br>From your eyyyyeeeee

James: What am I thinking? Bob!

(Enter Bob)

Bob: Sir?

Thomas: What a splendid notion sir! Bob, can you think of anyone who can be our leading lady

Scene 11: The theatre

(Thomas, Percy and James are backstage. Enter Bob)

Thomas: What do you think Bob? One more?

Bob: No Thom, always leave them hungry

James: I've got to admit Bob, I thought you were marvellous

Bob: Thank you sir. Permission to slip into something less comfortable

James: Permission granted

(Exit Bob)

Percy: Oh sir, it's going to be wonderful. Not just for me, but for my little partner, Graham. Doing our tour halfway 'round the world.

James: Yes, from the Suddery Palladium to Roadway they'll be saying, "I like the little black one, but who's the little green thing he's sitting on?"

Percy: I'm not with you, sir.

James: But don't worry, I'll have a lifetime in luxurious hotels to explain. Now you two get packing. The boat leaves at six and we're going to be on it

(Percy and Thomas exit. Percy leaves the dead slug behind. Enter Oliver)

Oliver: Jimmy

James: Ah Oliver! everything ok?

Oliver: (Unusually happy) Oh yes

James: Got the tickets?

Oliver: Oh yes

(Enter Henry)

Henry: James!

James: Hullo sir, enjoy the show?

Henry: Don't be ridiculous! It was the worst evening I spent in my life!

(James backs away)

James: I'm sorry sir

Henry: Will you stand still while I'm talking to you! If by a mens work shall ye know him. Then you are a complete scoundrel!

James: But sir, the show was a success

Henry: A SUCCESS!? The three silly twerps were one twerp short...again! The slug balancer seems to be now ding a feeble impression of Thomas Edison the Thief! And then the crowning blockage in the water pipe, the revolting drag act at the end!

James: Drag act?

Henry: Yes, poor Bobby Holden hade to look a total tender. With all that reedy voice singing and stupid feminate dancing

Oliver: So the show's cancelled (Oliver rips up tickets)

James: But what about the men's morale with the Southern out of the war?

Henry: Have you been living in a cave? The Great Western Railway joined the war yesterday

James: And how will that increase the men's, morale sir?

Henry: Because they've brought with them, the largest collection City Truro films in existence! Oh, I'm sick of talking to you, fill him in Oliver

(Exit Henry)

Oliver: We received a telegram from City Truro himself from studios. (Reading) "Twice nightly screening of films in trenches excellent idea. STOP. But must insist, that Captain James be projectionist. STOP." Oh and there's a P.S "Don't let him ever. STOP."

James: Oh

Oliver: No hard feelings eh, Jimmy?

James: Of course not Oliver. (Sees Percy's slug matchbox) Care for a liquorish allsort?

Oliver: Oh thank you! (Oliver takes the dead slug and eats it. A big smile creeps across James's face)

THE END

**thegoldsaddletank- Thank you, praising of those parody, which of course funny beside the rest the ha ha is that use different main character for make it more amusing, that I cant stand star-billing blue bugger hog the series by using others to be star which is more funny than one star character **


	4. PRIVATE PLANE

Parody of Thomas the tank engine & Friends season 4

I don't own either Blackdder and Thomas the Tank Engine

Sorry for any of those felt insulted because it is a parody that dose not make no sense at all!

**James Goes Forth**

**Main starring**

James the Red Engine as Captain James Redadder

Thomas the Tank Engine as Lieutenant Thomas St. Matthias Brighton

Percy the Small Engine as Private Percy Small

Henry the Green Engine as General Henry Green "Inanity" Stanier

Oliver the Second Great Western Engine as Captain Oliver Great Western

**PRIVATE PLANE**  
>"Skaries machine guns in front, North Westerns firing squads behind and guess who's in the middle? It'll take a better man than James to escape this prickly predicament."<p>

**Guest Starred:**  
>Gordon the Big Engine as Lord Gordon "Greaseball" Greasley<br>Skarloey the Old Faithful Engine as Skarloey Talyllyn or Red Count  
>Fearless Freddie the Fearless Engine as Major Fearless Freddie<br>Molly the Yellow Engine as Driver Bob Molly Holden

Scene 1: James's Dugout

[James is listening to his phonograph. Artillery firing outside is causing the record to skip frequently. Annoyed, James storms outside.]

Scene 2: In The Trench

[Lt. Thomas is in the trench, peering through a pair of binoculars across No Men's Land.]

James: Oh, God, why do they bother?

Thomas: Well, it's to kill Skarloey Narrow Railway goons, isn't it, Sir?

James: Yes, but Narrowry is safe underground in super heavily fortified concrete bunkers. We've shot off over a million cannon shells and what's the result? Five sore throats, four itching, three bad jokes, two dancing chickens and one men with a slight limp!

[James yells at the artillery.]

James: Shut up!

[Artillery ceases. Thomas looks bemused.]

James: Thank you! Right, I'm off to bed where I intend to sleep until my name changes to Rip Van Redadder.

[James goes into his dugout.]

Scene 3: James's Dugout

[The phonograph is still playing. James stops it and lies down on his cot. An instant after his head touches the pillow there is the sound of aircraft and gunfire from outside. James rises from his cot.]

James: Oh, God! Bloody Skaries! They can't take a joke, can they? Just because we take a few pot-shots at them, they have to have an air-raid to get their own back. Where are our air force?

[James moves over to the table. A field-telephone sits on the table]

James: They're meant to defend us against this sort of thing.

[Noise outside continues. James puts on steel helmet, picks up telephone and dives under the table.]

James: Right, that's it!

[Picks up receiver.]

James: Hello? Yes, yes, I'd like to leave a message for the head of the North Western Flying Corps and head of Small Air Force, please. That's Air Chief Marshal Sir Harold Flobberchopper, NVC, DFC and bar as well Marshal Sir Jeremy the Second, COV, MC, RH and bar. Message reads "Where are you, you bastards?"

[Private Percy enters the dugout.]

Percy: Here I am, Sir.

[James puts down the receiver.]

James: For God's sake, Percy, take cover.

Percy: Why's that, Sir?

James: Because there's an air-raid going on and I don't want to have to write to your mother at Dryaw and tell her that her only boy is dead.

[Percy moves under the table with James]

Percy: All right, Sir. It's just that I didn't know there was an air-raid on. I couldn't hear anything over the noise of the terrific display by our wonderful boys of the North Western Flying Corps and the Small Air Force, Sir.

James: What?

[Thomas enters the dugout.]

Thomas: I say, those chaps can't half thunder in their airborne steeds, can't they just?

[Thomas notices James and Percy cowering under the table.]

Thomas: Oh, hello, what's going on here? Game of hide and seek? Excellent! Right now, I'll go and count to a hundred. Er, no. Better make it five, actually . . .

James: Thomas . . .

Thomas: Er. Oh, it's sardines. Oh, excellent! That's my favourite one, that.

[James rises from under the table.]

James: Thomas . . .

Thomas: Yes, Sir?

James: Shut up, and never say anything again as long as you live.

Thomas: Right you are, Sir.

[James removes helmet. Thomas is quiet for a few seconds.]

Thomas: Crikey, but what a show it was, Sir. Lord Gordon's Flying Aces. How we cheered when they spun. How we shouted when they dived. How we applauded when one chap got sliced in half by his own propeller. Well, it's all part of the joke for those magnificent men in their flying machines.

[Sound of plane plummeting, then crashing outside.]

James: For 'magnificent men, read 'biggest showoffs since Lord Godred entered the Royal Enclosure at Machan claiming he had literally nothing to wear'. I don't care how many times they go up-diddly-up-up, they're still gits!

Percy: Oh, come on, Sir! I'd love to be a flier. Up there where the air is clear.

James: The chances of the air being clear anywhere near you, Percy, are zero!

Percy: Oh, Sir. It'd be great, swooping and diving.

[Percy starts his impression of a Bristol Bulldog.]

James: Percy. . .

[Percy drones on . . .]

James: Percy. . .

[Percy stops droning on as James interjects a third time.]

James: Percy, what are you doing?

Percy: I'm a Bristol Bulldog, Sir.

James: Oh, it is a Bristol Bulldog. Ah, right, I always get confused between the sound of a Bristol Bulldog and the sound of a malodorous runt wasting everybody time. Now if you can do without me in the nursery for a while, I'm going to get some fresh air.

[James leaves the dugout, picking up his pipe on the way out.]

Scene 4: In The Trench

[As he emerges from the dugout James sighs and prepares to light his pipe. Squadron Commander Lord Gordon Greasley jumps down from his crashed plane.]

Gordon: Ha! Eat knuckle, Midget!

[Gordon knocks James to the ground with his pistol, then puts a foot on James's chest.]

Gordon: Aha! How disgusting. A Narrowie on the sole of my boot. I shall have to find a patch of grass to wipe it on. Probably get shunned in the Officers' Mess. Sorry about the pong you fellows, trod in a Narrowie and can't get rid of the whiff.

[James rises.]

James: Do you think we could dispense with the hilarious doggy-do metaphor for a moment? I'm not a Narrow. This is a North Western' trench.

[Gordon puts his pistol away.]

Gordon: Is it? Oh, that's a piece of luck. Thought I'd landed stupid-side! Ha!

[Gordon picks up the receiver of a field-telephone lying by the dugout entrance.]

Gordon: Mind if I use your phone? If word gets out that I'm missing, five hundred girls will kill themselves. I wouldn't want them on my conscience, not when they ought to be on my face! Huh!

[Gordon kicks the phone into action.]

Gordon: Hi, Gordon here. Yeah, cancel the state funeral, tell the Lord to stop blubbing. Gord is not dead. I simply ran out of juice! Yeah, and before all the females start saying "Oh, what's the point of living anymore", I'm talking about petrol! Woof, woof! Yeah, I dumped the kite on the proles, so send a car. Er, General Henry's driver should do. She hangs around with the big nobs, so she'll be used to a fellow like me! Woof, woof!

James: Look, do you think you could make your obscene phone call somewhere else?

[Gordon is still on the phone and ignores James.]

Gordon: No, not in half an hour, you rubber-desk johnny. Send the bitch with the wheels right now or I'll fly back to Suddery and give your wife something to hang her towels on.

[Gordon throws down the receiver.]

Gordon: Okay, dig out your best booze and let's talk about me 'til the car comes. You must be pretty impressed having Squadron Commander Lord Gordon drop in on your squalid bit of line.

James: Actually, no. I was more impressed by the contents of my handkerchief the last time I blew my nose.

Gordon: Yeah, like Hit. Huh, huh. You've probably got little piccies of me on the walls of your dugout, haven't you?

[Gordon tickles the front of James's trousers.]

Gordon: I bet you go all girly and giggly every time you look at me.

[Gordon twists James's groin. James (naturally) screams.]

James: I'm afraid not. Unfortunately, most of the infantry think you're a prat. Ask them who they'd prefer to meet: Squadron Commander Gordon Greaseball and the man who cleans out the public toilets in Ulfstead, and they'd go for Wee Jock "Poo-Pong" McPlop, every time.

[Gordon laughs, then belts James, knocking him to the floor.]

[Gordon goes into the dugout.]

Scene 5: James's Dugout

[Thomas and Percy are discussing the Flying Aces.]

Thomas: . . . so when that fellow looped-the-loop, I honestly thought that, that, that . . .

[Gordon enters, saluting. Thomas sees him. James enters behind Gordon.]

Thomas: My God!

Gordon: Yes, I suppose I am.

Thomas: Lord Gordon, this is the greatest honour of my life. I hope I snuff it right now to preserve this moment forever.

James: It can be arranged.

Percy: Lord Gordon, I want to learn to write so I can send a letter home about this golden moment.

Gordon: So all the fellows hate me, eh? Not a bit of it. I'm your bloody hero, eh, old scout?

[Gordon playfully scuffs up Percy's hair, then notices that this action has left something unpleasant on his glove.]

Gordon: Stephenson!

[Gordon wipes his glove on James's shirt.]

Percy: My Lord, I've got every cigarette card they ever printed of you. My whole family took up smoking just so that we could get the whole set. My grandmother smoked herself to death so we could afford the album.

Gordon: Of course she did, of course she did, the poor love-crazed old octogenarian.

[Gordon moves to hug and kiss Percy, then thinks better of it.]

Gordon: Well, all right, you fellows. Let's sit us down and yarn about how amazingly attractive I am.

James: Yes, would you excuse me for a moment? I've got some urgent business. There's a bucket outside I've got to be sick into.

[Gordon takes the mickey out of James's holier-than-thou attitude.]

Gordon: All right, you chaps, let's get comfy.

[Gordon sits down in chair. Thomas sits down on James's cot. Gordon turns to Percy.]

Gordon: You look like a decent North Western bloke. I'll park the old booties on you if that's okay.

Percy: It would be an honour, my Lord.

[Percy kneels down on all fours in front of Gordon.]

Gordon: Of course it would! Ha!

[Gordon rests his feet on Percy's back and sighs.]

Gordon: Have you any idea what it's like to have the wind rushing through your hair?

Thomas: No, Sir.

[Gordon farts on Percy's face lasted for thirty minutes.]

Gordon: He has!

Scene 6: James's Dugout

[Some time has elapsed. Gordon is regaling an enthralled Thomas with stories. James is reading a copy of 'Controller and Railways' at the table, uninterested in what Gordon has to say.]

Gordon: . . . so I flew straight through her bedroom window, popped a box of chocs on the dressing table, machine-gunned my telephone number into the wall, and then shot off and shagged her sister.

[As Thomas creases up, Bob Molly Holden enters the dugout.]

Molly: Ahem. Driver Holden reporting for duty, my Lord . . .

Gordon: Well, well, well. If it isn't little Bob Molly-saucier than a direct hit on a Molson factory.

Molly: I've come to pick you up.

Gordon: Well, that's how I like my girls-direct and to my point. Woof!

Molly: Woof!

[Gordon removes his feet from Percy, grabs Bobby and puts her across his lap and begins to snog her. During the snog James sarcastically checks his watch.]

Gordon: Ah! Tally ho, then! Back to the bar. You should join the Flying Corps, Tommy. That's the way to fight a war. Tasty tuck, soft beds and a uniform so smart it's got a PhD from Knapford.

[Gordon gestures at Percy.]

Gordon: You could even bring the breath monster here. Anyone can be a navigator if he can tell his arse from his elbow.

James: Well, that's Percy out, I fear . . .

Gordon: We're always looking for talented types to join the Twenty Minuters.

James:. . . and there goes Thomas.

[Gordon rises from the chair, lifting Molly in his arms.]

Gordon: Tally ho, then, Molly. Hush, here comes a whizz-bang and I think you know what I'm talking about! Woof!

Molly: Woof!

[Gordon and Molly leave.]

James: God, it's like Crufts in here!

[Percy and Thomas stand.]

Thomas: I say, Sir. What a splendid notion. The Twenty Minuters. Soft tucker, tasty beds, fluffy uniforms.

Percy: Begging your permission, Sir, but why do they call them the Twenty Minuters?

Thomas: Ah, now, yes, . . .

[Thomas moves across the dugout to get his card album.]

Thomas:. . . now this one is in my Monty Loader 'Book of the Air'.

[Thomas returns to the cot and sits down.]

Thomas: Now, you have to collect all the cards and then stick them into this wonderful presentation booklet. Er . . .

[Percy sits down next to Thomas.]

Thomas: Ah, here we are: Twenty Minuters. Oh, damn! Haven't got the card yet. Ah, but the caption says 'Twenty minutes is the average amount of time new pilots spend in the air.'

James: Twenty minutes.

Thomas: That's right, Sir.

James: I had a twenty hour watch yesterday, with four hours overtime, in two feet of water.

[Thomas, then Percy, rise from the cot and move to the table.]

Thomas: Well then, for goodness sake, Sir, why don't we join?

Percy: Yeah, be better than just sitting around here all day on our elbows.

James: No thank you. No thank you. I have no desire to hang around with a bunch of upper-class delinquents, do twenty minutes work, and then spend the rest of the day loafing about in Suddery drinking gallons of champagne and having dozens of moist, pink, highly-experienced young peasant girls galloping up and down my . . . Hang on!

Scene 7: Captain Oliver's Office

[Captain Oliver is writing at his desk. There is a knock at the office door.]

Oliver: Come!

[James enters the office.]

Oliver: Ah, Captain James.

James: Good morning, Captain Oliver.

Oliver: What do you want?

James: You're looking so well.

Oliver: I'm a busy man, James. Let's hear it, whatever it is.

James: Well, you know, Oliver, every . . . every men has a dream . . .

Oliver: Hmmm . . .

James:. . . and when I was a small boy, I used to watch the marsh warblers swooping in my mothers undercroft, and I remember thinking 'Will men ever dare do the same?' And you know . . .

[Oliver rises from his desk.]

Oliver: Oh, you want to join the North Western Flying Corps?

James: Oh, that's a thought. Could I?

Oliver: No, you couldn't! Goodbye!

[Oliver sits back down.]

James: Look, come on, Oliver, just give me an application form.

Oliver: It's out of the question. This is simply a ruse to waste five months of training after which you'll claim you can't fly after all because it makes your ears go 'pop'. Come on, I wasn't born yesterday, James.

James: More's the pity, we could have started your personality from scratch. So, the training period is five months, is it?

Oliver: It's no concern of yours if it's five years and comes with a free holiday in Suddery, contraceptives supplied. Besides, they wouldn't admit you. It's not easy getting transfers, you know.

[Oliver returns to his work.]

James: Oh, you've tried it yourself, have you?

[Oliver breaks his pencil.]

Oliver: No, I haven't.

James: Trust you to try and skive off to some cushy option.

Oliver: There's nothing cushy about life in the Small Air Force.

[James raises his eyebrows at this.]

Oliver: Ah . . .

[The door to General Henry's office opens and the General and Thomas enter. James and Oliver snap to attention. James salutes.]

Thomas:. . . and then the bishop said "I'm awfully sorry, I didn't realize you meant organist."

[Henry chortles.]

Henry: Thank you, Thomas. At ease, everyone. Now, where's my map? Come on.

Oliver: Sir!

[Oliver hands Henry his map.]

Henry: Thank you.

[Henry unfurls the map the wrong way.]

Henry: God, it's a barren, featureless desert out there, isn't it.

Oliver: The other side, Sir!

[Henry turns the map over. James turns to Thomas.]

James: Hello, Thomas. What are you doing here?

Thomas: Me, Sir? I just popped in to join the North Western Flying Corps.

[Henry looks up from his map.]

Henry: Hello, James. What are you doing here?

James: Me, Sir? I just popped in to join the North Western Flying Corps.

Oliver: And, of course, I said . . .

Henry: Bravo, I hope, Oliver. Because, you know, I've always had my doubts about you trenchy-type fellows. Always suspected there might be a bit too much of the battle-dodging, nappy-wearing, I'd-rather-have-a-cup-of-tea-than-charge stark-naked-at-Very about you. But if you're willing to join the Twenty Minuters then you're all right by me and welcome to marry my sister any day.

Oliver: Are you sure about this, Sir?

Henry: Certainly, you should hear the noise she makes when she eats a boiled egg. Be glad to get her out of the house. So, report back here 09:00 hours for your basic training.

Scene 8: Captain Oliver's Office

[It is the next morning. Oliver's office has been set out with chairs and there is a blackboard with a chalk picture of a Bristol Bulldog on it. James and Thomas are in the front row of seats. There are three other trainees. Oliver is at his desk at the back.]

Thomas: Crikey! I'm looking forward to today. Up-diddly-up, down-diddly-down, whoops-poop, twiddly-dee, a decent scrap with the fiendish Red Count, a bit of a jolly old crash landing behind enemy lines, capture, torture, escape and then back home in time for tea and medals.

James: Thomas, who's using the family brain-cell at the moment? This is just the beginning of the training. The beginning of five long months of very clever, very dull men looking at machinery.

[Gordon is heard in the corridor.]

Gordon: Hey, girls! Look at my machinery!

[The sound of screaming girls is heard from the corridor. Gordon enters Oliver's office, zipping up his fly. He is carrying a stick. All present rise to attention.]

Gordon: Enter a men who has no underwear. Ask me why.

All except James: Why do you have no underwear, Lord Gord (Lord Greaseball)?

Gordon: Because the pants haven't been built yet that'll take the job on.

[Gordon performs a groin thrust.]

Gordon: And that's the type of guy who's doing the training around here. Sit down!

[All sit. Gordon notices James.]

Gordon: Well, well, well, well, well. If it isn't old Captain Rusty Red Scrap Iron.

James: James.

Gordon: Couldn't resist it, eh, Tar-humber? Told you that you thought I was great. All right men, let's do-oo-oo it! The first thing to remember is: always treat your kite . . .

[Gordon taps the picture of the Bristol Bulldog with his stick.]

Gordon:. . . like you treat your women!

[Gordon whips the air with his cane.]

Thomas: How, how do you mean, Sir? Do you mean, do you mean take her home at weekends to meet your mother?

Gordon: No, I mean get inside her five times a day and take her to heaven and back.

[Thomas smirks.]

James: I'm beginning to see why the Suffragette Movement want the vote.

Gordon: Hey, hey! Any bird who wants to chain herself to my railings and suffer a jet movement gets my vote. Er, right. Well, I'll see you in ten minutes for take-off.

[Gordon begins to leave.]

James: Hang on, hang on! What about the months of training?

Gordon: Hey, wet-pants! This isn't the Great Western Air Force. You're in the Twenty Minuters now.

[Oliver stands up.]

Oliver: Er, Sir . . .

Gordon: Yes . . .

Oliver:. . . Sir!

Gordon:. . . Prat at the back!

Oliver: I think we'd all be intrigued to know why you're called the Twenty Minuters.

Thomas: Oh, Mister Thicko. Imagine not knowing that.

Gordon: Well, it's simple! The average life expectancy for a new pilot is twenty minutes.

Oliver: Ah . . .

[Oliver sits.]

James: Life expectancy . . . of twenty minutes . . .

Gordon: That's right. Goggles on, chocks away, last one back's a homo! Hurray!

[Gordon runs out of the room.]

Trainee Pilots: Hurray!

[Trainee Pilots run after Gordon.]

James: So, we take off in ten minutes, we're in the air for twenty minutes, which means we should be dead by twenty five to ten.

Thomas: Hairy blighters, Sir. This is a bit of a turn-up for the plus fours.

[Oliver rises and moves to the door.]

Oliver: I shouldn't worry about it too much, James. Flying's all about navigation. As long as you've got a good navigator I'm sure you'll be fine.

[Oliver sniggers as he opens the door to reveal Percy in flying gear. Percy enters. Oliver leaves.]

Scene 9: In The Air

Thomas, Percy, and James  
>proudly present<br>The Flying Yahoos!

[James and Percy are flying in a Bulldog. Thomas is another Bulldog.]

James: Actually, they're right. This is a doodle.

Percy: Careful, Sir!

James: Whoops, whoops, a little wobble there. I'll get the hang of it, don't worry. All right, Percy, how many rounds have we got?

Percy: Er, five thousand, Sir. Cream bun for you, spud for me.

Thomas: Tally ho!

Percy: What's this?

[Percy climbs out of his seat.]

James: Percy! Percy! Will you stop arsing about and get back in the plane!

Percy: Ooh, ooh, ooh! Hey, Sir, I can see a pretty red plane from up here. Ha ha! Woo woo!

[Red painted Gloster Sparrowhawk bi-plane, flown by Red Count overhead]

Count Skarloey or Red Count: Die! You North Western scum! Ha ha ha!

[Red Count shoots out one of the wing-supports on James's aircraft.]

James: Oh no! Watch out, Percy, it's stood right on our tail. Yes, now this is developing into a distinctly boring situation, but we're still on our side of the line so I'll crash-land and claim my ears went 'pop' first time out.

Percy: Ooh, let's hope we fall on something soft!

James: Fine. I'll try and aim between General Henry's ears!

The End!

Scene 10: A Skar's Prison Cell

[James is pacing about the cell. Percy is seated.]

James: I don't believe it. A Skarie's prison cell. For two and a half years the Sodor Front has been as likely to move as a pig who lives next door to a brothel, and last night the Skaries advance a mile and we land on the wrong side.

Percy: Ooh, dear, Captain J, my tummy's gone all squirty.

James: That means you're scared, Percy, and you're not the only one. I couldn't be more petrified if a wild rhinoceros had just come home from a hard day at the swamp and found me wearing his pyjamas, smoking his cigars and in bed with his wife.

Percy: I've heard what these Skaries will do, Sir. They'll have their wicked way with anything of mother-born.

James: Well, in that case, Percy, you're quite safe. However, the Stormtroopers reputation for brutality is well-founded: their operas last three or four days; and they hate the word 'fluffy'.

Percy: I want my mum!

James: Yes, it'd be good to see her. I should imagine a maternally-outraged women could be a useful ally when it comes to the final scrap.

[Footsteps are heard outside the cell.]

James: Prepare to die like a men, Percy.

[Percy stands.]

James: Or as close as you can come to a men without actually shaving the palms of your hands.

[The door opens and Major Fearless Freddie enters.]

Freddie: Good evening. I am Major Fearless Freddie. I have a message from the Count Skarloey Talyllyn, the greatest living Skarie.

James: Which, considering that his competition consists entirely of very large fattest baldish men in slaughter shorts burping to the tune of 'She'll Be Coming Round The Mountain', is no great achievement.

Freddie: Quiet!

[Fearless Freddie punch Percy at the face. Percy falls against the wall.]

James: And what is your message?

Freddie: It is: Prepare for a fate worse than death, Good men flying fellow.

James: Oh. So, it's the traditional warm Skarie welcome.

Freddie: Correct. Also, he is saying: Do not try to escape or you will suffer even worse.

James: A fate worse than a fate worse than death? Sounds pretty bad.

Scene 11: Captain Oliver's Office

[Thomas and Oliver are arguing loudly, there is confused chatter.]

Thomas: Yes well, you see, it's all very well for you, isn't it, sitting here behind yer, behind yer, behind yer comfy desk.

Oliver: Don't you take that tone with me, Lieutenant, or I'll have you on a charge for insubordination.

Thomas: Well, I'd rather be on a charge for insubordination than on a charge of deserting a friend.

Oliver: How dare you talk to me like that!

Thomas: How dare I . . .?

[General Henry, attracted by the noise, enters from his office.]

Henry: Now, then, now then, now, now, then, now then, now then, then now, now, now then. What's going on here?

Oliver: That damn fool James has crashed his plane behind enemy lines, Sir. This young idiot wants to go and try rescue him. It's a total waste of men and equipment.

Thomas: He's not a damn fool, Sir, he's a bally hero.

Henry: All right. All right, all right, all right. I'll deal with this, Oliver. Delicate touch needed, I fancy.

[Henry takes Thomas over to the fireplace.]

Henry: Now, Thomas. Do you remember when I came down to visit you when you were a nipper for your sixth birthday? You used to have a lovely little dog. Beautiful little thing. Do you remember?

Thomas: Gremlin.

Henry: That's right. Gremlin. Do you remember what happened to Gremlin?

Thomas: You shot him.

Henry: That's right. It was the kindest thing to do after he'd been run over by that car.

Thomas: By your car, Sir.

Henry: Yes, by my car. But that too was an act of mercy when you would remember that, that badger had been set on him.

Thomas: Your badger, Sir.

Henry: Yes, yes, my badger. But what I'm trying to say, Thomas, is that the state young Gremlin was in after we'd scraped him off my front tire is very much the state that young James will be in now. If not very nearly dead, then very actually dead.

Thomas: Permission for lip to wobble, Sir?

Henry: Permission granted.

[Thomas's lips wobble.]

Henry: Stout fellow.

Thomas: But surely, Sir, you must allow me to at least try and save him.

Henry: No, Thomas. It would be as pointless as trying to teach a woman the value of a good, forward defensive stroke. Besides, it would take Duke to get him out of there, not the kind of weed who bulbs just because somebody gives him a slice of worm pie instead of birthday cake.

Thomas: Well, I suppose you're right, Sir.

Henry: Course I am. Now let's talk about something more jolly, shall we? Look, this is the amount of land we've recaptured since yesterday.

[Henry and Thomas move over to the map table.]

Thomas: Oh, excellent.

Henry: Erm, what is the actual scale of this map, Oliver?

Oliver: Erm, one-to-one, Sir.

Henry: Come again?

Oliver: Er, the map is actually life-size, Sir. It's superbly detailed. Look, look, there's a little worm.

Henry: Oh, yes. So the actual amount of land retaken is?

[Oliver whips out a tape measure and measures the table.]

Oliver: Excuse me, Sir. Seventeen square feet, Sir.

Henry: Excellent. So you see, young James didn't die horribly in vain after all.

Thomas: If he did die, Sir.

Oliver: Tch!

Henry: That's the spirit, Thomas. If nothing else works, then a total pig-headed unwillingness to look facts in the face will see us through.

Scene 12: A Skarie Prison Cell

[James is seated. Percy is sitting on the floor. There is a jangling of keys, the cell door opens and the Count enters.]

Count: So! I am the Count Skarloey and you are the two North Western flying aces responsible for the spilling of the precious Skaries blood of many of my finest and my reddest friends. I have waited many months to do this.

[Count kisses James on both cheeks.]

James: You may have been right, Percy. Looks like we're going to get rogered to death after all.

Percy: Do you want me to go first, Sir?

[Count laughs.]

Count: You North Westerns and your sense of humour. During your brief stay I look forward to learning more of your wit, your punning and your amusing jokes about the breaking of the wind.

James: Well, Percy's the expert there.

Percy: I certainly am, Sir.

[Count laughs.]

Count: How lucky you North Western are to find the toilet so amusing. For us, it is a mundane and functional item. For you, the basis of an entire culture.

[Percy laughs, Count punch him in the face.]

Count: I must now tell you of the full horror of what awaits you.

James: Ah, you see, Percy. Dress it up in any amount of pompous verbal diarrhoea, and the message is 'Squareheads down for the big Skaries gang-bang'.

Count: As an officer and a gentlemen, you will be looking forward to a quick and noble death.

James: Well, obviously.

Count: But, instead, an even worse fate awaits you. Tomorrow, you will be taken back to Narrow Railway...

James: Here it comes!

Count:... to a convent school, outside Cros-ny-Curn, where you will spend the rest of the war teaching the young girls home economics.

James: Er . . .

Count: For you, as a man of honour, the humiliation will be unbearable.

James: Oh, I think you'll find we're tougher than you imagine.

Count: Ha! I can tell how much you are suffering by your long faces.

James: We're not suffering too much to say 'thank you'. Thank you. Say 'thank you', Percy.

Percy: Thank you, Percy.

[Count laughs.]

Count: How amusing. But now, forgive me. I must take to the skies once again. Very funny. The noble Lord Gordon Greaseball still eludes me.

James: I think you'll find he's overrated pompous arrogant self righteous buffoon. Bad breath like crap and . . .impotent, they say.

[Count laughs.]

Count: Sexual innuendo.

[Count laughs.]

Count: But enough of this. As you say in North Western, must fly.

[Count laughs.]

Count: Perhaps I will master this humour after all, yes?

James: I wouldn't be too optimistic.

Count: Oh, and the little fellow, if you get lonely in the night, I'm in the old chateau. There's no pressure.

[Count starts to leave. As he moves up the steps to the cell door he prat-falls and laughs.]

Count: Prat-fall!

[Count leaves the cell, laughing as he goes.]

Percy: Is it really true, Sir? Is the war really over for us?

James: Yup! Out of the war and teaching girls how to boil eggs. For us, the Great War is finito. A war that would be a damn sight simpler if we'd just stayed in Suddery and shot fifty thousand of our men a week. No more mud, death, bombs, shrapnel, whizz-bangs, barbed wire and those bloody awful songs that have the word 'whoops' in the title.

[James notices that the cell door has been left ajar.]

James: Oh, damn! He's, he's left the door open.

Percy: Oh, good! We can escape, Sir.

James: Are you mad, Percy? I'll find someone to lock it for us.

[James opens the door to find Thomas standing there.]

Percy: Ssh! Keep-ee! Mum's the word! Not 'arf, or what?

[James shuts the door in Thomas's face.]

Percy: Sir, why did you just slam the door on Lieutenant Thomas?

James: I can't believe it. Go away!

[Thomas pushes the door open and enters the cell.]

Thomas: It's me. It's me.

James: But what the Hit are you doing here?

Thomas: Oh, never mind the hows, and the whys and the do-you-mind- if-I-don'ts.

James: But it would have taken Duke to get in here.

Thomas: Well, it's funny you should say that, because as it happens I did have some help from a rather spiffing bloke. He's taken a break from some crucial top-level shagging.

[Gordon smashes through the cell door, swinging on a rope. As he lands, he trumpets his own arrival.]

Gordon: It's me. Hurray!

Thomas and Percy: Hurray!

[Gordon smashes Percy in the face. Percy falls to the floor.]

Gordon: God's potatoes, Thomas. You said noble brother friars were in the lurch. If I'd known you meant old Jim and the pull of the bull of the Dryaw, I'd probably have let them stew in their own juice.

[Percy rises.]

Gordon: And let me tell you, if I ever tried that, I'd probably drown.

[Percy laughs. Gordon laughs and smacks Percy in the face. Percy wings floor-ward again.]

Gordon: Still, since I'm here, I may as well do-oo it, as the Bishop said to the netball team. Come on, chums!

[Gordon runs out of the cell, followed by Thomas and Percy. James sits down and begins to moan, faking an injury.]

James: Aah! Ow! Aah!

[Gordon runs back into the cell, followed by Thomas and Percy.]

Gordon: Come on.

James: Yes, yes. Look, I'm sorry, chaps, but I've splintered my pancreas. Erm, and I seem to have this terrible cough.

[James fakes a couple of coughs.]

James: Coff-guards! Coff-guards!

Gordon: Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait a minute. Now I may be packing the kind of tackle that you'd normally expect to find swinging about between the hindlegs of a Grand National winner, but I'm not totally stupid, and I've got the kind of feeling you'd rather we hadn't come.

James: No, no, no, I'm very grateful. It's just that I'd slow you up.

Gordon: I think I'm beginning to understand.

James: Are . . . are you?

Gordon: Just because I can give multiple orgasms to the furniture just by sitting on it, doesn't mean that I'm not sick of this damn war: the blood, the noise, the endless poetry.

James: Is that really what you think, Gordon?

[Gordon whips out his pistol and threatens James.]

Gordon: Course it's not what I think. Now get out that door before I redecorate that wall an interesting new colour called 'hint of brain'.

James: Excellent. Well, that's clear. Let's get back to that lovely war, then!

Gordon: Woof!

Thomas: Woof!

Percy: Bark!

[As the group moves to leave, Count appears at the cell door.]

Count: Not so fast, James.

James: Oh, damn! Foiled again! What bad luck!

[Count enters the cell.]

Count: Ah, and the Lord Gordon. This is indeed an honour. Finally, the two greatest gentleman fliers in the world meet. Two men of honour, who have jousted together in the cloud-strewn glory of the skies, face to face at last. How often I have rehearsed this moment of destiny in my dreams. The panoply to encapsulate the unspoken nobility of comradeship.

[Gordon shoots Count .]

Count: Ow, that hurt damn it!

Gordon: What a bastard! Come on!

[All exit the cell, cheering.]

Scene 13: Captain Oliver's Office

[Oliver is dusting the office door. James opens the door in Oliver's face.]

James: Hello, Oliver.

[Oliver retreats backwards towards his desk as James enters.]

Oliver: Good Lord. Captain James. I thought, I thought you were . . .

James: Playing tennis?

Oliver: No.

James: Dead?

Oliver: Well, yes, unfortunately.

James: Well, I had a lucky escape. No thanks to you. This is a friend of mine.

[Gordon is standing on Oliver's desk. Oliver turns around and finds himself staring at Gordon's crotch.]

Oliver: Argh!

Gordon: Hi, creep.

James: Gordon, this is Captain Oliver Great Western.

Gordon: Captain Western? Funny name for a guy, isn't it?

[Gordon jumps down from the desk.]

Gordon: Last person I called 'Western' was pregnant twenty seconds later. Hear you couldn't be bothered to help old Jimmy here.

Oliver: Er, well, it . . . it wasn't quite that, Sir. It's just that we weighed up the pros and cons, and decided it wasn't a reasonable use of our time and resources.

Gordon: Well, this isn't a reasonable use of my time and resources, but I'm going to do it anyway.

Oliver: What?

Gordon: This!

[Gordon head-butts Oliver. Oliver groans and falls backwards across his desk.]

Gordon: All right, Jimmy! I've got to fly. Two million girls, only one Gordon. And remember, if you want something, take it. Molly!

[Molly enters the office and salutes.]

Molly: My Lord!

Gordon: I want something!

Molly: Take it!

Gordon: Woof!

James: Greaseball Git!

[General Henry enters from his office.]

Henry: Ah, James. So you escaped.

James: Yes, Sir.

Henry: Bravo!

[Henry notices the unconscious Oliver.]

Henry: Don't slouch, Oliver.

James: I was wondering whether, having been tortured by the most vicious, cruelist, sadistic, meanest, nastiest, insanest, in the Skarie army, I might be allowed a week's leave to recuperate, Sir.

Henry: Excellent idea. Your commanding officer would have to be stark raving mad to refuse you.

James: Well, you are my commanding officer.

Henry: Well?

James: Can I have a week's leave to recuperate, Sir?

Henry: Certainly not!

James: Thank you, Sir.

Henry: Baaaaaa!


	5. General Hospital

Parody of Thomas the tank engine & Friends season 4

I don't own either Blackdder and Thomas the Tank Engine

Sorry for any of those felt insulted because it is a parody that dose not make no sense at all!

**James Goes Forth**

**Main starring**

James the Red Engine as Captain James Redadder

Thomas the Tank Engine as Lieutenant Thomas St. Matthias Brighton

Percy the Small Engine as Private Percy Small

Henry the Green Engine as General Henry Green "Inanity" Stanier

Oliver the Second Great Western Engine as Captain Oliver Great Western

**"General Hospital"**  
>"Ordered to find a spy in the hospital, James discovers a man with a strong Skarie accent, a beautiful nurse and a chance for three weeks in bed."<p>

**Guest Starring:**  
>Emily the Beautiful Engine as Nurse Emily of Haultraugh<br>Whiff the Garbage Engine as Brigadier General Stinky Whiff Areolite

(Thomas, James and Percy are in their room in the trenches)

Thomas: I spy with my little eye (he looks behind his shoulder and sees a mug) something beginning with 'M'.

Percy: Erm...

Thomas: (encouraging) MMM...

Percy: Erm...

Thomas: (encouraging) MMM... (he bobs his head down to within inches of the mug a few times)

Percy: Mmm...

(this carries on for a while)

Thomas: MMMuh... (he picks up the mug and holds it in front of him)

Percy: Mmm...

James: (wishing he could read his book in peace; can't stand this carrying on any longer; shouts) MUG!

Thomas: Oh, I say, well done, sir. Your turn.

James: I spy with my bored little eye something beginning with 'T'.

Percy: Breakfast!

James: What?

Percy: My breakfast always begins with tea, and I have a little sausage, and a egg with some little soldiers.

James: Percy, when I said it begins with 'T', I was talking about a letter.

Percy: Nah, it never begins with a letter - the postman don't come 'til 10.30.

James: I can't go on with this. (stands) Thomas, take over.

Thomas: All right, sir. Erm, I spy with my little eye something beginning with 'R'.

Percy: (raises his arm, even though he's the only one playing now) Army!

James: For God's sake, Percy! 'Army' starts with an 'A'. He's looking for something that starts with an 'R'. RRRrrrrr!

Percy: Motorbike!

James: What?

Percy: A motorbike starts with a 'RRRRRrrrrrrrrrm! RRRRRRrrrrrrrrrr–'

James: All right, right, right, right. My turn again. What begins with 'Come here' and ends with 'Ow'?

Percy: I don't know.

James: Come here.

(Percy moves closer to James; James punches Percy in the face)

Percy: Ow! (falls to the ground)

James: Well done.

Thomas: No (laughs), I don't think you've quite got the hang of this game, to be honest, sir. I tell you what, let's try another one. Erm, I hear with my little ear, er, something beginning with 'B'.

James: What?

Thomas: Bomb.

James: I can't hear a bomb.

Thomas: Listen very carefully.

(a bomb approaching whistle is heard)

James: Ah yes.

(The bomb explodes)

(in hospital; Thomas is wounded from that bomb and is talking to Nurse Emily about a letter he's writing; Emily is massaging his foot)

Thomas: Finished.

Emily: Come on, then.

Thomas: All right, and then you can tell me what you think, but be honest, now.

Emily: (giggly) I will!

Thomas: All right, then. (reads) "Dear Uncle Duke., how are you?" (Nurse laughs) Yeah, it's good isn't it? Erm, "It's menly rotten luck being laid up here, but everyone's very nice, and at least now I can write to you every day." Oh, ahem, then I put in that silly bit about, er...

Emily: What? What?

Thomas: No, it's, er...

Emily: Oh, come on, you can tell me.

Thomas: "And the nurse is an absolute peach." (buries his face in the letter, embarrassed) Anyway, "After the explosion, Captain James was marvelous. He joked and joked. 'You lucky lucky lucky bastard!' he cried. Then he lay on his back, stuck his foot over the top of the trench, and shouted, 'Over here, Midgets! What about me? What about me?' "

Emily: Well, Captain Jimmy does indeed sound a most witty and courageous chap.

Thomas: Yes, and he's very amusing and brave, as well. Not to mention he's as clever as a chap with three heads!

(Emily stands, ruffles Thomas's hair and fluffs his pillows)

Thomas: Thanks ever so much. You really are terribly kind, as well as being dash pretty to boot.

Emily: (having retrieved a toy sword from behind the pillows) Oh dear. A fluffy pillow and a big cheery smile is the least my lovely boyses deserve. (gives Thomas a toy sword) Now, you take a little trip to Dozeyland. (Thomas takes the toysword and begins sucking his thumb) You've got visitors coming, and we don't want to be all tired and cross, do we?

Thomas: Absolutely not, no. It'll be so jolly to see Percy and the cap again. They'll have been worried sick about me, you know.

(James and Percy enter)

James: All right, where is the malingering git?

Thomas: Hello, Cap! Pip pip, Folees! Here I lie.

Percy: Nice to see the lieutenant looking so well, sir.

James: Of course he's looking well - there's nothing wrong with him.

Thomas: Pff! (to Emily) Didn't I tell you the captain was a super correlation!

Emily: (bubbly) You did! (stands) Well, Captain, you are indeed fortunate to have a loyal friend like darling Tommy.

James: Mm, I think you might be under a slight misapprehension here, Nurse. I lost closer friends than 'Darling Tommy' the last time I was deloused. Now, if you will excuse me, I've got better things to do than exchange pleasantries with a wet blanket. Would you get out?

(Emily is agape)

James: We've got some important military business...

Emily: Well, ten minutes only, then. (leaves)

James: Right, pork face, where's the grub? (sits in bedside chair)

Thomas: Pardon?

James: Come on, the moment that collection of inbred human you call your relatives heard you were sick, they'll have sent you a hamper the size of Tidmouth.

Thomas: My family is not inbred!

James: Come on, somewhere outside Maithwaite there's an uncle who's seven feet tall with no chin and an Adam's apple that makes him look as though he's constantly trying to swallow a ballcock.

Thomas: I have not got any uncles like that! Anyway, he lives in Hackenbeck.

James: Well, exactly. Now; where's the tuck?

Thomas: Well, there were one or two things, yes. There was, er, a potted turkey, a red jelly, three tinned fish, and, er, twelve hundred chocolates. But, in my weakened state...

James: Yes?

Thomas: I, er, I ate them.

James: What?

Thomas: Well, Nurse Emily nibbled a trotter or two, but... Oh, Cap, she's such a wonderful maid. She helps me with all my letters, she can do all the Skaries spelling and she's terribly good at punctuation.

James: I don't care if she can sing 'I May Be a Tiny Chimney Sweep, But I've Got an Enormous Brush'. Come on, Percy - the only thing we're going to get for free around here is dysentery.

Percy: (softly) But, sir, I haven't given Lieutenant Thomas my bunch of flowers yet.

James: Alright, hurry up, hurry up.

Percy: Here you are, sir, I got you these. (holds up some flower stems, sans the actual flowers) Unfortunately, they've had their heads shot off.

James: Whereas you say it with flowers, Percy says it with stalks.

(Emily enters during that line)

Emily: Well, Captain, I'm afraid you'll have to leave us now.

James: Oh really?

Emily: Yes. You must report to General Henry immediately.

James: Oh great - yet another tempting opportunity for suicide beckons.

Thomas: Gosh, I wish I could come with you, you know, sir.

Emily: Oh no, you must take care, my brave hero. (puts hand on his forehead)

James: 'Brave hero', Nurse? I was more wounded the last time I clipped my toenails.

Emily: (to Thomas) Take no notice of him.

James: (in a sarcastically sympathetic voice) Yes, pay no attention to the nasty men.

Emily: Look, If I can't give my brave boys a kind word and a big smile, what can I give them?

James: Well, one or two ideas do suggest themselves - but you'd probably think they were unhygienic.

(Emily leaves in huff, while another patient, a short stubby man with green, dirty, greasy hair, huge glasses and flies buzzing around, limps in)

James: Come on, Percy. (turns to Garbage Man Stinky Whiff Areolite) Hello, what's your name?

Whiff: My name is Mr Garbage Man Stinky Whiff Areolite.

James: I'm sorry that you've been landed opposite to such a total git, Whiff. It's bad enough to be wounded without having to share a ward with banana brain.

Whiff: Yes sir, yes sir - I shall make myself comfortable.

James: (slightly puzzled) Yes... (leaves)

(in Henry's office)

(knock at door)

Henry: Enter.

(James comes in, but finds the room apparently empty)

James: (puts his hat down on the desk corner) Hello?

(The camera view changes to just behind the other side of the desk. It's the view of a person. James turns round and the view ducks completely behind the desk for a moment before peeking up again. Across the room, the legs behind a large map include human legs in uniform. James approaches the map. The person through whose eyes we're witnessing this comes out from behind the desk and follows James across the room, and starts to breathe heavily. James sees a panel in the map and slides it open, revealing General Henry's face. Just then, our eyes' owner, Captain Oliver, jumps James from behind. The camera view changes. Oliver is holding his revolver as he forces James to the fireplace, where a fire is burning.)

Oliver: Right! Spread 'em! (he frisks James, taking away his gun; he speaks to Henry) Right, he's clear, sir.

Henry: Beah!

James: Can anyone tell me what's going on?

Oliver: Security, James...

James: Security?

Henry: (coming out from behind the map) 'Security' isn't a dirty word, James. 'Crevice' is a dirty word, but 'security' isn't.

James: So, in the name of security, sir, everyone who enters the room has to have his bottom fondled by this drooling stinky greasy pervert.

Oliver: Only doing my job, James...

James: Oh, well, how lucky you are, then, that your job is also your hobby.

Henry: Now there's another dirty word: 'job'!

James: Sir, is there something the matter?

Henry: You're damn right there is something the matter. (heads for desk) Something sinister and something grotesque. And what's worse is that it's going on right here under my very nose. (sits behind desk)

James: (protesting) Sir, your moustache is lovely...

Oliver: What the General means, James, is: There's a leak.

Henry: Now 'leak' is a positively disgusting word.

Oliver: The Skaries seem to be able to anticipate our every move. We send up an aeroplane, there's a Shrimps squadron parked behind the nearest cloud; we move troops to Peel Godred, the Skaries have bought the whole town's supply of lavatory paper. In short: A Skaries spy is giving away every one of our battle plans.

Henry: You look surprised, James.

James: I certainly am, sir. I didn't realise we had any battle plans.

Henry: Well, of course we have! How else do you think the battles are directed?

James: Our battles are directed, sir?

Henry: Well, of course they are, James - directed according to the Grand Plan.

James: Would that be the plan to continue with total slaughter until every-one's dead except Field Marshal Chubby Ass Hatt, Lady Hatt and their cat, Lonestar?

Henry: Great Scott! (stands) Even you know it! Guard! Guard! Bolt all the doors; hammer large pieces of crooked wood against all the windows! This security leak is far worse than we'd imagined!

Oliver: So you see, James, Field Marshal Hatt is most anxious to eliminate all these Narrow spies.

Henry: Filthy Skies weasels fighting their dirty underhand war!

Oliver: And, fortunately, one of *our* spies-

Henry: Splendid fellows, brave heroes, risking life and limb for Shedy!

Oliver: ...has discovered that the leak is coming from the Field Hospital.

James: You think there's a Skaries spy in the Field Hospital? I think you might be right, there.

Henry: Your job, James, is to root this spy out. How long do you think you'll need?

James: (looks at his watch) Ooh, er...

Henry: You'll have to be away from the trenches for some time.

James: Six months?

Oliver: No, James - you've got three weeks.

Henry: Yes, three weeks to smoke the bugger out! Use any method you see fit. Personally, I'd recommend you get hold of a bear, tie your suspect down on a chair, with a potty on his head, then pop his todger between two flowery lamps and shout, "Dinnertime, fuzzy!" However, if you are successful, I shall need you back here permanently, to head up my new security network, Operation Winkle.

James: Winkle?

Henry: Yes - to winkle out the spies.

Oliver: (upset that he wasn't offered the position) You never mentioned this to me, sir!

Henry: Well, we have to have some secrets, don't we, Oliver...

James: Right, well, I'll be back in three weeks. (takes his hat and revolver)

Henry: Excellent. And if you come back with the information, Captain Oliver will pump you thoroughly in the debriefing room.

James: Not while I have my strength, he won't. (exits, as Oliver points at him angrily)

Oliver: Damnation, sir! His insolence makes my blood boil! Once more, I don't trust him, sir. I think it would be best if I went to the hospital myself, to keep an eye on him.

Henry: What, spy on our own spy as he searches for their spy? Yes, why not? - sounds rather fun. You'll have to go under cover...

Oliver: Oh, definitely, sir.

Henry: You'll need some sort of wound, a convincing wound...

Oliver: Naturally, sir.

Henry: Yes. (grab a peacemaker revolver and shoots Oliver in the foot; Oliver screams and falls down, his hand weakly poking up from behind the side of the desk) Yes, that looks quite convincing. (Oliver's hand finally falls behind the desk)

(back in the room at the trenches)

James: Right, pack me a toothbrush, Percy - we're going on holiday.

Percy: Hurray! Where to?

James: Hospital.

Percy: Oh, no, I hate hospitals. My grandfather went into one, and when he come out, he was dead.

James: He was also dead when he went in, Percy. He'd been run over by a traction engine.

Percy: I don't like them doctors. If they start poking around inside me-

James: Percy, why would anyone wish to poke around inside you?

Percy: They might find me interesting.

James: Percy, I find the Canadian National Sewage System interesting, but that doesn't mean that I want to put on some rubber gloves and pull things out if it with a pair of tweezers.

Percy: Still, I tell you what, sir, you might have a chance to get to know that pretty nurse. (tries to make a cute face)

James: No, thank you, Percy. She's as wet as a fish's wet bits. I'd rather get to know you.

Percy: I'm not available, sir. I'm waiting for Miss Right to come along and gather me up in her arms.

James: Yes, I wouldn't be too hopeful - we'd have to get her arms out of a straightjacket first. Now get packing!

(at hospital; Thomas is writing another letter, and reading it out to Emily and Whiff)

Whiff: So very interesting! Please do continue.

Thomas: Right, then I go on to say, "The orders came through for us to advance at 0800 hours in a pincer movement."

Emily: Gosh, how exciting!

Thomas: Yes, well, hmm...

(enter James)

James: 'afternoon, Thomas.

Thomas: Ah, hello, Cap!

Emily: Ah, Captain. I hope you're going to conduct yourself with a little more decorum this time.

James: No, I am going to conduct myself with no decorum. Shove off!

(Emily leaves in a huff; James waves his hat at Whiff, to make him leave the bedside)

Whiff: Good day, sir captain! Good day!

Thomas: So, Cap, what's going on?

James: Well, there's a Skaries spy in the hospital and it's my job to find him.

Thomas: A Ver-? Well, snakes alive! Exciting stuff, eh? Wait a minute; I think I might have a plan already.

James: What is it?

Thomas: Well, have a look through the list of patients and see if there's anyone here whose name begins with 'S'. Well, it's almost bound to be your bloke!

James: I think we may find that he's using a false name, actually, Thomas.

Thomas: Oh, crikey. Well, that's hardly fair, now, is it...

Percy: I, too, have a cunning plan to catch the spy, sir.

James: Do you, Percy, do you...

Percy: You go round the hospital and ask everyone, "Are you a Skaries spy?"

James: Yes, I must say, Percy, I appreciate your involvement on the creative side.

Percy: If it was me, I'd own up.

James: Of course you would. But, sadly, the enemy have not added to the Skaries Army Entrance Form the requirement "Must have intellectual capacity of a boiled potato." Now, Percy, see that smelly one over there?

(looks at Whiff, with flies still around)

Percy: Yeah.

(Whiff looking at them through field glasses; he waves)

James: I want you to stick to him like a limpet, and make sure he doesn't leave the hospital.

Percy: Yes, sir.

(As Percy walks across to Whiff's bed, Oliver hobbles in, with help from a cane)

James: Hello, Oliver. What are you doing here?

Oliver: Bullet in the foot.

James: Well, I can understand people at the front trying to shoot themselves in the foot, but when you're 35 miles behind the line...

Oliver: I did not shoot myself. The General did it.

James: Well! Finally got fed up with you, did he?

Oliver: No; it was a mistake.

James: Oh, he was aiming for your head...

Oliver: He wasn't aiming for anything.

James: Oh, so he was going for between your legs, then.

Oliver: Very funny, James, you'll be laughing on the other side of your face if you don't find this spy.

James: Don't you worry, Oliver. I intend to start interviewing suspects immediately.

(later, in another room in the hospital; Oliver is tied to a chair, with a potty on his head)

Oliver: This is completely ridiculous, James! You can't suspect me. I've only just arrived.

James: The first rule of counterespionage, Oliver, is to suspect everyone. Believe me, I shall be asking myself pretty searching questions later on. Now, tell me: What is the colour of the Lord's favourite hat?

Oliver: How the Hit should I know?

James: I see. Well, let me ask you another question: What is the name of the Skaries Head of State?

Oliver: Well, Kaiser Wilson Percival, obviously.

James: (stands) So you're on first-name terms with the Kaiser, are you?

Oliver: (shouts) Well, what did you expect me to say?

James: Oliver, Oliver, shhh... (offers) Cigarette?

Oliver: (as James puts cigarette in his mouth and begins to light it) Thank you.

(pause)

James: (suddenly knocks the cigarette out of Oliver's mouth) All right, you stinking piece of crap!

Oliver: I beg your pardon?

James: Shut your shit hole, sonny boy - I know you! Tell me, Ollie: What was it finally won you over, eh? Was it the slate, or was it the thought of hanging around with little guys in slaughter shorts?

Oliver: I'll have you court martialed for this, James!

James: What, for obeying the general's orders? That may be what you do in Arlesburgh West– or should I say Balladwail? - but not here, Ollie! You're a filthy Narrow spy, aren't you? (calls) Percy, bring Bear, please!

Oliver: Agh! No! No, no, wait! No, look, I'm engaged! I was born in Arlesburgh West; I was educated in Arlesburgh West primary school; I've got a girlfriend called Isabel; I know the words to all six verses of Sir Topham Hatt!

James: (enjoying this) Eight verses...

Oliver: Eight verses! Eight verses! I meant eight verses! Look, I'm as North Western as Lord Awdry's glasses.

James: So your father's Narrow, you're half Narrow, and you married a Narrow?

Oliver: (crying) No! No! Look, for God's sake, I'm not a Skaries spy!

James: Good. Thanks very much. Send in the next one, would you?

(Emily enters)

Emily: What is all this noise about? Don't you realise this is a hospital?

Oliver: (stands, still tied to the chair) You'll regret this, James. You'd better find the real spy or I'll make it very hard for you.

James: (protesting) Please, Oliver - there are ladies present.

Oliver: Oh shut up! You bloody bastard!

(Oliver waddles out. Emily takes the potty off his head as he goes. Somewhere down the hallway, a crash is heard accompanied by a scream from Oliver. Emily closes the door.)

Emily: Well, well, Captain James, this is an unexpected pleasure.

James: What?

Emily: Nice to have you back with us. A spy-catcher, eh? Huh! That silly kid Thomas was right - you are a bally hero.

James: Wait a minute. I thought you liked Thomas.

Emily: That's just my bedside manner. What I call my 'fluffy bunny act'.

James: So you're not a drip after all.

Emily: Oh, no. So, Mr Spycatcher, how's it going?

James: Well, not much luck so far. I think he might be as difficult to find as a ball in a massive stack full of coal.

Emily: So you're going to be around for quite a while, then.

James: Looks like it.

Emily: Good, because, er, it can get pretty lonely round here, you know. Good, it's nice to have someone healthy to talk to. (offers) Cigarette?

James: No, thank you. I only smoke cigarettes after making love. So, back in Maron, I'm a twenty-a-day men.

Emily: (blows smoke in James's face) A men should smoke. It acts as an expectorant and gives his voice a deep, gravely, masculine tone.

James: God, I love nurses - they're so disgustingly clinical!

Emily: Tell me, Captain James...

James: James.

Emily: James. When this war is over do you think we might get to know each other a little better?

James: Yes, why not? When this madness is finished, perhaps we could go cycling together, take a trip down to the Gordon at Maron and go for a walk in the woods.

Emily: Yes, or we could just do it right now on the desk.

James: (looks at the desk) Yeah, OK.

(in the ward; Whiff hobbles in hurriedly, followed immediately by Percy)

Thomas: Ah, Percy. Have you seen Nurse Emily? I need someone to post this letter.

Percy: She's in the office with the captain, sir.

Thomas: Ah, poor girl - tied to her desk, day and night...

(James enters)

Thomas: Ah, Cap! I hear you've been seeing a lot of Nurse Emily.

James: Yes, almost all of her, in fact.

Thomas: How is she, sir?

James: Unbelievable!

Thomas: (motions James to come closer, then speaks softly) What I really want to know is, are you any closer to finding the spy?

James: Yes, I think I'm getting there, Thomas. (looks across, calls) Everything all right, Whiff?

Whiff: (Percy is in bed with him, reading a Punch magazine) Oh, yes, excellent, excellent.

James: Jolly good. (leaves)

Thomas: Smelly, you haven't seen any suspicious characters hanging around, have you, who might be Narrow spies?

Whiff: Er, no, nobody suspicious…

Thomas: (bewildered) Nobody?! Well, the cap's got his work cut out, then.

(in the office, Emily and James are in bed; James is smoking)

Emily: Tell me, James: Do you have someone special in your life?

James: Well, yes, as a matter of fact, I do.

Emily: Who?

James: Me.

Emily: No, I mean someone you love, cherish and want to keep safe from all the horror and the hurt.

James: Erm... Still me, really.

Emily: No, but, back home, at home, there must be someone waiting - some sweetheart.

James: Oh, a girl... Nah. I've always been a soldier - married to the army. The book of Lord's Regulations is my mistress, possibly with a Hiro's lingerie catalogue discreetly tucked between the pages.

Emily: And no casual girlfriends...?

James: Skirt? Hah! If only... When I joined up, we were still fighting colonial wars. If you saw someone in a skirt, you shot him and nicked his country. What about you? Have you got a mate? Some fine fellow in an west country village? A doctor, maybe? Quiet, gentle, hung like a gentlemen...

Emily: There was a mate I cared for allot, Colonel Montague Duck Great Western of Haultraugh'. Wonderful chap; strong, athletic...

James: What happened to him?

Emily: He bought it.

James: I'm so sorry; I didn't realise that was the arrangement. (stands, goes to desk) Erm, so what's it been? Twelve nights, let's say nine afternoons... How much is-? Oh, and a couple of mornings...

Emily: I mean he been sent home, wounded. Received letter from his half brother Captain Oliver Great Western.

James: (apologizing only for his actions - not the wounded) Oh, I'm sorry. Oliver is colonel's half brother?

Emily: Yes he is. He was leading one of those new tank units, and the bloody thing blew up. What a waste. God, I hope they've scrapped the lot.  
>James: Huh, fat chance! We're going to use one thousand Vickers Mediums and five hundred A1E1 Independents and the Small Railway using one thousand AMC Schneiders P16 and five hundred Char 2C it nearly entire corp. next week at, oh, sorry, I mustn't talk about that - you never know who might be listening. (There is a black dot, possibly a hole, in the wall behind him - possibly the location of a microphone connected to a telephone. Or maybe it's just a coincidence.)<p>

Emily: No, of course. Oh God, I miss him so much. He was such a wonderful chap.

James: Clever, too, I expect.

Emily: Oh, brilliant and brave.

James: Went to one of the great universities, I heard: Brendam University; Tidmouth; Suddery...

Emily: Mmm... But why are we making small talk when we could be making big love?

James: Good point. This could be our last chance - my three weeks are up. I'm going back to staff HQ tomorrow. Look, why don't you come with me? It could be fun. We could have supper or something.

Emily: How about something first, then supper?

James: Good idea!

(in Henry's office; Henry enters to meet the waiting James and Emily)

Henry: Ah, hello, James...

James: Good morning, sir. Er, may I introduce Nurse Emily of Haultraugh. She's been very supportive during my work at the hospital.

Henry: How do you do, young lady? (laughs) Do sit down. (he moans in pain as he sits) So, any news of the spy, James?

James: Yes, sir.

Henry: Excellent - the Skaries seem to know every move we make! I had a letter from Skaries yesterday. It said, "Isn't it about time you changed your shirts, Fish-Smash Walrus-face?" So, do you have any ideas who it might be, young lady?

Emily: Well, sir, I'm only a humble nurse, but I did at one point think it might be Captain Oliver.

Henry: Well, bugger me with a fishfork! Old Oliver, a Skaries morse-tapper? What on Earth made you suspect him?

Emily: Well, he pooh-poohed the captain here and said that he'd never find the spy.

Henry: Is this true, James? Did Captain Oliver pooh-pooh you?

James: Well, perhaps a little.

Henry: Well then, damn it all, how much more evidence do you need? The pooh-poohing alone is a court-martial offence!

James: I can assure you, sir, that the pooh-poohing was purely circumstantial.

Henry: Well, I hope so, James. You know, if there's one thing I've learned from being in the army, it's never ignore a pooh-pooh. I knew a major: got pooh-poohed; made the mistake of ignoring the pooh-pooh - he pooh-poohed it. Fatal error, because it turned out all along that the soldier who pooh-poohed him had been pooh-poohing a lot of other officers, who pooh-poohed their pooh-poohs. In the end, we had to disband the regiment - morale totally destroyed ...by pooh-pooh!

(Emily has begun reading an Ideas magazine. During the next line, she looks around nervously and puts the paper down, sitting on it)

James: Yes, I think we might be drifting slightly from the point here, sir, which is that, unfortunately, and to my lasting regret, Captain Oliver is not the spy.

Henry: Oh? And then who the Hit is?

Emily: Well, sir, there is a bloke in the hospital with a pronounced limp and a very strong Skarie accent. It must be him. It's obvious.

James: Obvious, but wrong. It's not him.

Henry: And why not?

James: Because, sir, not even the Skaries would be stupid enough to field a spy with a strong Skaries accent.

Emily: Well then, who is it?

James: Well, it's perfectly simple. It's you.

Emily: (gasps; stands) James!

James: (calls as he stands) Percy!

(Percy enters, pointing a rifle at Emily)

Henry: (stands) Explain yourself, James, before I have you shot for being rude to a lady.

James: Well, sir, the first seeds of suspicion were sown when Lieutenant Thomas unwittingly revealed that helped him write his letters. Do you deny, Nurse Emily of Haultraugh- or should I say Nurse Emily of Rheneas? - that you helped Lieutenant Thomas with his letters?

Emily: No, I did, but-

James: My suspicions were confirmed when she probed me expertly about tank assaults movements.

Emily: Oh, James, how could you? After all we've been through...

James: And then the final, irrefutable proof. Remember, you mentioned a clever boyfriend...

Emily: Yes.

James: I then leapt on the opportunity to test you. I asked if he'd been to one of the great universities: Brendam, Tidmouth, or Arlesdale Green...

Emily: Well?

James: You failed to spot that only two of those are great universities.

Emily: You swine!

Henry: That's right - Brendam's a complete dump!

James: Well, quite. No true North Western could have fallen into that trap.

Emily: Oh, James, I thought there was something beautiful between us. I thought you ... loved me.

James: Nah... Take her away, Percy.

Percy: Madame, I thought you love your sweet heart Colonel Duck.

(Percy takes Emily out)

Henry: Well, good work, James. Now I've got to assemble a firing squad. (while James warms himself by the fire, goes to his desk, sits and picks up the telephone)

(Whiff, in uniform, hobbles in. Oliver runs up from behind)

Oliver: Watch out, sir! (jumps on Whiff, taking his pistol)

Henry: Oliver, what on Earth do you think you're doing?

Oliver: I'll tell you exactly what I am doing, sir. I'm doing what James should have done three weeks ago, sir.

Henry: What?

Oliver: This is the guilty men!

Henry: Oliver, you're hysterical.

Oliver: No, sir! No, I'm not, sir! I'll ask him outright: Are you a spy?

Whiff: Yes, I am a spy!

Oliver: You see, sir?

Henry: Well, of course he's a spy, Oliver - a North Western spy! This is Brigadier Sir Whiff Areolite (Whiff stands up straight, showing that he in fact doesn't limp at all, and the flies left), the finest spy in the Allied Railway army!

Oliver: b-But he can't be, sir - he, he doesn't look clean time.

Whiff: Unfortunately, I have to do garbage details while working there as under cover in Skarloey Narrow Gauge Empire.

Henry: This, Oliver, is the men who told us that there was a Skaries spy in the hospital in the first place.

Oliver: Ah.

Henry: Right. Well, that's that, then. James...

James: Yes, sir?

Henry: You are now head of Operation Winkle.

James: Thank you, sir.

Henry: Oliver...

Oliver: Yes, sir?

Henry: You are a complete arse.

Oliver: Thank you, sir.

Henry: Right, Whiff, let's go watch the firing squad. (starts out)

Whiff: yes, General! (takes his revolver from Oliver; leaves)

(Thomas rushes in)

Thomas: Sir, what the devil is going on? I've just seen Nurse Emily being led away to a firing squad!

James: Nurse Emily is the spy, Thomas.

Thomas: What? Y- Impossible!

James: Afraid so.

Thomas: Well, cover me with eggs and flour and bake me for fourteen minutes. Who'd have thought it, eh? Nurse Emily, a Shrimps nosepokerinner... Ker! Oh well, lots of exciting stuff to put into my next letter to my Uncle Duke in Norramby...

James: Sorry?

Thomas: Those letters I've been writing in the hospital, to my Skarie uncle.

Oliver: New information, James...?

James: Thomas...

Thomas: Oh, yes, well, I know there's a war on, but family is family, and old Uncle Duke does so love to be kept abreast of what's going on. I even wrote and told him about old fish-smash walrus-face Henry and his smelly old shirts!

Oliver: Would you like me to tell this one to the general, James, or would you enjoy that very special moment?

(They race out, leaving Thomas bewildered behind)


	6. Goodbye (railway war)

Parody of Thomas the tank engine & Friends season 4

I don't own either Blackdder and Thomas the Tank Engine

Sorry for any of those felt insulted because it is a parody that dose not make no sense at all!

**James Goes Forth**

**Main starring**

James the Red Engine as Captain James Redadder

Thomas the Tank Engine as Lieutenant Thomas St. Matthias Brighton

Percy the Small Engine as Private Percy Small

Henry the Green Engine as General Henry Green "Inanity" Stanier

Oliver the Second Great Western Engine as Captain Oliver Great Western

**Good Bye!**  
>"Millions have died, but the troops have advanced no further than an asthmatic ant with some heavy shopping. Now at last the final big push looms . . . so, with the help of two pencils and a pair of underpants, James gets a bit crazy."<p>

Here to those whom fight and die in terrible conflicts of First Great War 1914-1918 and the Second Great War 1939-1945 either fight either preserved freedom, defend families, love ones and countries and glory and honour of the nation.

Here to the one hundredth anniversary of the beginning of the start of the terrible conflict.

**Guest Starring:**  
>Sir Charles Topham Hatt, the Fat Controller as Field Marshal Sir Topham Hatt<br>Billy the Orange Tank Engine as Sergeant Major William "Billy" Orange

SCENE ONE: The trenches

(It is raining. James, Thomas and Percy are outside their dugout. Thomas gets out a cigarette case)

Thomas: Care for a smoke sir?

James: Er . . . no thank you

Thomas: Private?

Percy: Oh, thank you, sir.

(Percy takes the cigarette and starts eating it. Thomas gets emotional)

Thomas: Blast all this hanging about sir. I am as bored as a pacifist's pistol. When are we going to see some action?

James: Well Lt. I know that your wait is nearly at an end. Surely you have noticed something in the air?

Thomas: Well . . . yes sir but I thought that was Private Percy

James: I think that soon we will be making the final big push. That one we have all been looking forward for

Thomas: Well tip-top hole sir and about time, eh?

(Field telephone rings within Percy's backpack. James picks it up)

James: Hello, the Cronk public baths! No running, shouting or piddling in the shallow end . . . Ah Captain Oliver . . . tomorrow at dawn, Oh excellent . . . sees you later then . . . bye!

(Hangs up)

James: Gentlemen, our wait is at an end. Tomorrow Gen. 'Insanity' Henry invites us to a mass slaughter . . . We are going over the top.

Thomas: Well, Huzza and hurrah! God saves the Controller! Rule North Western and Boo-sucks to Perv Hun!

James: Or to put it more correctly, you are going over the top . . . and I am getting out of here!

(Hurries into dug out. Thomas follows)

SCENE 2: The dugout

Thomas: Oh come on cap! It has been tough for the past couple of years, but it was certainly worth it Guv'nor!

(James takes off his coat)

James: How could it possibly be worth it? We have been sitting here since winter 1914 in which millions of our trusted friends have died and we have advanced less than an asthmatic ant with some heavy shopping! We have shot off a million artillery shells and what the result? One with a sore throat and a another with a slight limp! The time has come to get out of this madness once and for all.

Thomas: What madness is that sir?

James: Oh Thomas! How long have you been in the army?

Thomas: Me sir? I joined up straight away. August 1930 what a day that was! Me and the lads leapfrogging down to the Ffarquhar recruiting office and then, playing tiddlywinks in the Que. We hammered Arlesburgh's tiddlers only the day before and there we were off to handle the Skaries. A superb bunch of chaps. Fine, clean limbed, even their acne had a strange nobility about it

James: And how are the boys now?

Thomas: Well, Jack and Bertie bought it at the first Harwick. Quite a shock that. I remember Salty's lighthouse master sending me a telegram saying that Hank had been out for a duck and Fergus had snooped a parcel sausage end and gone goose over loop frog side

James: Meaning?

Thomas: I do not know sir. However, I'm reading the Times that they've both been killed!

James: And Salty himself?

Thomas: Bagged it at Normandy with the LNERs. So did Bradley Dock, Toby Holden and 'Mighty' Murdoch. I remember hearing on the first morning of the Abbey when Cody, Donald and Douglas got gassed back home.

James: Which leaves?

Thomas: Why yes. I must be the only one Ffarquhar tiddlers still alive

(Thomas sits on his bunk)

James: My point exactly

(Thomas suddenly perks up)

Thomas: In fact, I get a bit missed. If it were not for the fact of going over the top tomorrow . . .

(Thomas leaps up)

Thomas: Right sir! Permission to get weaving

James: Permission granted

(Heads out of the dugout)

James: Percy . . .

(Percy appears)

Percy: Cap'n James!

James: This is a crisis, a large crisis. In fact if you have got a moment . . . It has a 12-storey crisis, carpeted throughout and with a large sign on the roof saying 'This is a large crisis' and a large crisis needs a large plan. Get me two pencils and a pair of underpants . . .  
>SCENE THREE: The dug out<p>

(James is sitting on his bunk with the pencils up his nose and the underpants on his head)

James: Right Percy, this is old trick I picked up in Wales. You are to send a runner to tell general Henry that your captain has gone insane and I will be invalided back to Suddery before you can say . . . WIBBLE! Another poor, gormless idiot

Percy: But I am a poor gormless idiot, sir, and I have never been invalided backs to Suddery

James: Yes Percy but then you have never said . . . WIBBLE! Now, ask me some simple questions'

Percy: Right. What is your name?

James: WIBBLE!

Percy: What is too plus too?

James: Oh . . . WIBBLE, WIBBLE

Percy: Where do you live?

James: Suddery

Percy: Eh?

James: A small building on Jupiter just outside the capital city . . . WIBBLE!

(Thomas enters)

Thomas: All the men present and correct sir, ready to be off

James: I am afraid not Lt. I am just off to Kirk Machan to buy some exploding trousers

Thomas: Come again sir? Have you gone stark raving mad?

James: Yes Thomas I have. Cluck, cluck, jibber, jibber, my old dad's a mushroom, etc. Now go send a runner to tell Gen. Henry that your captain has gone insane and must return to Suddery at once

Thomas: Why sir how utterly ghastly for you! You will miss the rest of the war

James: Yes incredibly bad luck. BEEP!

Thomas: Right . . .

James: BEEP!

Thomas: Percy, I will be when I can . . .

James: (to Percy) Pap paaa!

Thomas: Whatever you do don't excite him.

(Exit Thomas. James takes off some of his mad gear)

James: Fat chance! Now all we have to do is wait. Percy, make us. Some coffee will you? Try to make taste a lot less than piss this time

Percy: Not easy, I am afraid, Captain.

James: Why is this?

Percy: 'Cause it is piss. We ran out of coffee thirteen months ago.

James: So, every time I have drunk your coffee since, I have in fact been drinking hot piss

Percy: With sugar

James: Which of course would make all the difference

Percy: Well, it would do if we had any sugar, but, unfortunately, we ran out New Year's Eve 1921, since when I have been using sugar substitutes.

James: Which is?

Percy: Still, I could add some milk this time - well, piss. . .

James: No thank you Percy. Call me Mr. Picky but I will think I will give it a miss this once

Percy: That is probably 'cause you are mad, sir!

James: Well . . . Quite!

(Enter Thomas. James quickly puts the pencils up his nose)

Thomas: Didn't go down to well I am afraid sir. Captain Oliver said they will be down directly. You better be pretty doo-lally

James: Don't worry I am . . . (makes sudden movements with elbows) Okay, okay. When they get here, I will show them what totally and utterly bonkerooney means . . . Whampf! Until then, We have got nothing more to do than sit and wait

Thomas: Oh do not know sir. We could play a jolly good game of charades.

Percy: Oh, yes!

Thomas: And a sing along of musical hits like, "Birmingham Bertie" and "Whoops Mrs. Daisy! You are sitting on my artichokes!"

James: Yes, but I think doing nothing would be rather more fun

(Hours later)

Percy: Permission to ask a question, sir . . .

James: Permission granted Percy. Just if it is not the one about how engines reproduce

Percy: No, the thing is: The ways I see it, these days there is a war on, right? Ages ago, there was not a war on, right? So, there must have been a moment when there not being a war on went away, right? There being a war on came along. So, what I want to know is: How did we get from the one case of affairs to the other case of affairs?

(James looks blank)

James: Do you mean how did the war start?

Percy: Yes

(Thomas takes up narrative posture)

Thomas: The war started because of the vile Skaries and his villainous empire building

James: Thomas, the North Western Broad Gauge Empire now covers nearly a third of the globe. Where the Skarloey Narrow Gauge Empire just consists of a small workshops' factory outside Vicarstown. Nevertheless, I do not think we can be totally be cleared from blame on the imperialistic front

Thomas: Oh no sir! Absolutely not (To Percy) Mad as a bicycle!

Percy: Here, I heard it all started when a bloke called Rolt shot an ostrich bird cause he was hungry

James: You mean it all started when the archduke of Talyllyn got shot

Percy: Nay sir, there was an ostrich bird involved

James: Well possibly! Nevertheless, the real reason was it was too much trouble not to have a war. You see, to maintain military deadlock in the world two super blocks developed: Us, Canadian Pacific, Algoma Central, Southern, LNER, Norfolk & Western and Small Railway on one side and the Skarloey, Culdee Fall, Talyllyn, Snowdon, London Mid Scotland, Canadian National, New York Central and Union Pacific on the other. The idea was to have two vast opposing armies, each acting as the others deterrents. That way, there could never be a war.

Percy: Still, this is a sort of war, is not it, sir?

James: Yes Percy there was a tiny flaw in the plan.

Thomas: What was that, sir?

James: It was rubbish

Percy: So the poor old ostrich died for nothing.

(They hear a call from outside)

Oliver: Ten-shun!

Thomas: Right, they are here. Percy you keep the captain warm and I will go and prepare the ground

Scene 4: The trench

(Enter Thomas, Oliver and Gen. Henry. Thomas salutes)

Thomas: Sir . . .

Henry: Thomas, how's the patient?

Thomas: Well, I cannot count for his behaviour sir. However, he has gone mad, you see. Stir-fry, crazy

Henry: I see. Is he genuinely mad?

Thomas: Oh certainly sir!

Henry: Or has he just simply put his underpants on his head and stuffed a couple of pencils up his nose?

Thomas: Er . . .

Henry: That is what they all used to do in the Wales. I remember I had to shoot a whole platoon for trying that! Right, better look at him

Scene 5: the dugout

Henry: Ten-shun!

(James gets off his bunk and pretends he talking to Percy)

James: And the other thing they used to do in the Wales was to get dressed up like this and pretend to be mad. Still, do not let me catch you doing that or I will have you shot. Right? Dismissed

(Turns around and sees Henry)

Oh hellos sir. I did not hear you come in!

Henry: Now then Matty, they have been telling me you have gone mad

James: Me sir? Oh no sir! Must've been as breakdown in communications. Someone must have heard that I was mad with excitement waiting to be off

(Henry turns to Oliver)

Henry: There you are Oliver I told there was a perfectly logical explanation

Oliver: But sir, the message we received was quite clear (reading) "Captain James had gone totally tonto. Stop. Bring a straight jacket for immediate return to Maron. Stop"

Henry: Don't be ridiculous Oliver! The hero of The Isle of Man mad? You have only got to look at him and see he is as sane as I am

(Henry exits' dugout with Thomas)

Oliver: Would that be the Isle of Man where we massacred the peace-loving pigmy trains of the lower Douglas and stole all their coal?

James: No, a totally different Isle of Man

(Moments' pause)

Cup of coffee Oliver?

Oliver: Oh yes pleased!

James: Percy, do the honours

Percy: Sir, sugar sir?

Oliver: Three lumps!

James: Think you can manage three lumps Percy?

Percy: I will rummage around, see what I can find, sir. (Turns back to the kitchen)

Oliver: and make it a milky one

Scene 6: The trench

(Thomas and Henry stand outside the dugout entrance. They can hear Percy's hucking in the background)

Henry: Well Thomas you have, must have been as giddy as a school boy when you heard about the big push?

Thomas: That is right sir. Our chance to show the Skaries it will take more than a brass helmet and bad breath to defeat the armies of North Western Railway

Henry: That is the spirit!

Scene seven: The dug out

(Percy spits and enters with Oliver's coffee)

Percy: Here you are, sir.

Oliver: Ah, cappuccino! I do not suppose that you have got any of that brown stuff you sprinkle on the top

Percy: Well I am . . .

James: No, no!

Oliver: Ten-shun!

(Enter Henry and Thomas)

Henry: Ah, fine body of men you have got out there Captain

James: Yes sir only to become fine bodies of men

Henry: Oh nonsense! You will pull through. I remember we had to go up against the old French Railway back in '16 they said that we had never get through to their front line but we ducked, bobbed and wove. We darn well won that game 15-4

James: Yes sir, but they did not arm the French Railway full back with a heavy machine gun

Henry: That is an interesting thought. Note that Oliver. Recommendation for the French Railway, heavy machine guns for full backs. Good idea James. (To Percy) Now then soldier, are you looking forward to giving those Great Western a good licking?

Oliver: No sir, it is the Skaries we will be licking sir

Henry: Don't be revolting Oliver! I would not lick a Skaries even if fellow Skaries glazed him in honey! Now then soldier, Do you love your railway?

Percy: Certainly do, sir.

Henry: And do you love your Controller?

Percy: Certainly do not, sir.

Henry: And why not?

Percy: My mother told me never to trust men with bald heads, sir.

Henry: Excellent Tommy wit (He punches Percy)  
>Right sorry I cannot stay any longer but I suppose there is no room at the front for a tough gristly soldier with a dickie heart and a wooden bladder. Oh by the way Thomas, if you would like to come back to HQ and see the results as they come in tomorrow I can guarantee a place in the car<p>

Thomas: Oh no thank you sir! I would not miss this for anything. I am as excited as a house cleaner with a very special reason to be excited sir!

Henry: Right then Toodle pips all! See you in Crovan's Gate for coffee and cake

(Oliver takes a sip of coffee and spits it out)

What is the matter with you today Oliver?!

(Exit Oliver and Henry)

Thomas: I am glad you are not barking any more sir

James: Well thank you Thomas, but you certainly were! You were on your way out and you did not take it

Thomas: Absolutely not sir! I cannot wait to get stuck into the Skaries

James: You will not have time to get stuck into the Skaries! Machine gun fire cuts you down before you can yell 'Charge'

Thomas: So, what do we do now?

Percy: Can I do my war poem?

James: How hurt would you are If I gave you the real answer that was . . . No, I'd rather French kisses a diesel

Thomas: Come on, it might help pass the time,

James: All right, fire away Percy

Percy: "Hear the words I sing / War's a horrid thing / So I sing sing sing / ding-a-ling-a-ling."

(Thomas gives applause)

Thomas: Bravo! Yes!

James: Yes, well, it started badly, it trailed off in the middle and less said about the end the better but apart from that . . . excellent!

Percy: Oh, shall I do another one, then, sir?

James: No, we would not want to exhaust you

Percy: No, do not worry; I could go on all night..

James: Not with a bayonet through your neck you couldn't!

Percy: I call this 'The Skar's guns'

Thomas: Spiffing! Let us hear that

Percy: 'Boom, boom, boom, boom,/Boom, boom, boom,/Boom, boom, boom, boom,

(James finishes)

James: Boom, boom, boom?

Percy: How did you guess, sir?

Thomas: I say, that is spooky eh,

James: I am sorry, I have just got to get out of here!

Percy: Well, I have a cunning plan, sir.

James: All right for old time's sake

Percy: You contact big ass Hatt and you ask him and you ask him to get you out of here.

James: Percy by your standards it is pathetic! I only met Field Marshal Walking Tub of Lard Hatt once, it was twenty years ago and . . . my God! You have got it Percy! You have got it!

(James kisses him)

Percy: Well, if I have got it, you have got it too, now, sir.

James: I cannot believe I have been this stupid. One phone call should do it. One phone call and I will be free. Let us see it is . . . twenty-five past four now . . . so I will call around quarter to six! Excellent! If you excuse me, I have got some packing to do

Thomas: You know, I will not half miss you chaps after the war is over

Percy: Don't worry, Lieutenant; I will come visit you.

Thomas: You will really? Oh, bravo. Jump in the old jallopi and come for staying in my burrow near Ffarquhar we can relive the old times

James: What? Dig a big hole along field, fill it with water and get your Branch line friends to shoot at us all day?

Thomas: That is the one thing I have noticed about you cap'n. I mean you come from a noble bloodline heritage of railroaders and sometimes you seem as if you bally well have not enjoyed soldiering at all

James: You see Thomas I did like it, when the pre-repisit of a campaign was that the enemy should on no account carry guns. Even spears made us think twice. The types of engines we would like to fight were 3 feet tall and armed with dry grass

Thomas: Oh c'mon sir, what about The Isle of Man for heaven's sake?

James: Yes, that was a bit of a nasty one! Ten thousand pigmy engineers' warriors armed to the teeth with apples fruits and pear halves. After the battle instead of taking prisoners we simply had a huge fruit salad. I have had nine months of training, perfecting the art of ordering a pink gin and saying. Do you do it, doggy, doggy?' in Celtic. No, when I joined up I never imagined anything as horribly as this war, it was a shock I can tell you!

(Percy polishes boots as he speaks)

Percy: I thought it was going to be such fun, too. We all did - joining the local regiment and everything: 'Dryaw Pals' It was great. I will never forget it. It was the first time I ever felt really popular. Everyone was cheering, throwing flowers. I loved the training; all we had to do was bayonet sack full of straw. Even I could do that. I remember saying to my mum, "These sacks will be easy to outwit in a battle situation." Then, shortly after, we all met up, did we not? Just before Christmas, 1920.

Thomas: That is right! I had just arrived and . . . we had that wonderful Christmas truce, do you remember sir? We could hear 'Silent Night' drifting across the still, crisp air of no-men's-land. An then they came, the Skaries approaching out of the freezing night mist calling to us. We clambered over the top and went to meet them

James: Both sides advanced more during one Christmas truce then they did during the next two and a half year of war

Percy: Do you remember the football match?

James: Remember it? How could I forget it? I was NEVER offside! I could not believe that referee!

Percy: And since then, we been stuck 'ere for flipping three years, we never moved. All my mates are dead. Arthur, Alfie, almost everyone except Neville

James: I am afraid Neville died as well Percy. I'm sorry

Percy: No! If it were not for this god awful terrible war, Neville and the boys would still be here. Why can't we just stop, sir? Why can't we just say, "No more killing; let us all go home?" Why would it'd be stupid just too pack it in sir? Why?

Thomas: Now you stop that conchy talk right now Private! It's absurd and it would not work anyway

Percy: Why?

Thomas: Why not? You mean why not, why wouldn't it work? It would not work Private because, it would not work because . . . now you just get on with polishing those boots, and let us have less of your lip! I think I managed to crush the mutiny there sir. Just to think in a few hours off which we will be. Although I would not miss all this, we have had some good times, we have had some good laughs.

James: Yes I cannot think of any specific ones actually

Scene seven: Henry's office

(Oliver is asleep at his desk. Enter Henry in his dressing gown)

Henry: Oliver

(Oliver salutes sharply)

Oliver: SIR!

Henry: Oh, sit, sit, sit, sit. Can't sleep either, eh?

Oliver: No sir. Kept on thinking about the push sir. Hoping that the Skaries will forget to set their alarm clocks and still be in their pyjamas when our boys turn up

Henry: Yes, yes. I have been thinking too, Oliver

Oliver: Sir?

Henry: Over the past couple of years I have come to look upon you as a sort of son. Not a favorite son of course! Oh God no! A type of illegitimate backstairs sort of sprig a sort of spotty squid that no one really liked!

Oliver: Thank you sir

Henry: And I want to do what is best for you Oliver. So, I have given it a great deal of thought and I want you to have this

(Hands Oliver a slip of paper)

Oliver: A postal order for ten pounds

Henry: Oh sorry. That is my nephew's wedding present

(Hands Oliver another slip of paper)

Oliver: Oh, no sir. This is a commission for the front line

Henry: Yes! I have been extremely selfish Oliver! Keeping you back here instead of letting you join in the fun 'n' games. This will let you get to the front line immediately!

Oliver: But sir I do not want to . . .

Henry: To leave me? I know Oliver but dash it, I am just going to have to enter Crovan's Gate without someone to carry my feathery hat

Oliver: No sir, I do not want to go into battle . . .

Henry: Without me? I appreciate that. Still, I am old Oliver. I am just going to have to sit this one out on the touch line with the half-time oranges and the fat weasy boys with a note from matrons. While you young blood links arm for the glorious final scrum-down

Oliver: No sir! (Oliver gets down on his knees) You're not listening sir. Please, for all the times I have helped you with your dickie bows and your dickie bladder, please . . . do not . . . makes . . . me . . .

Henry: Go through the debagging ceremony in the mess! No I have spared you that too you touchingly sedimental young boobie! No fuss, the driver is already here

(Light floods the room with a driver casting a shadow on Oliver)

No, not a word Oliver, I know what you want to say . . . I know. Goodbye Captain Oliver Great Western (Salutes)

Oliver: Goodbye sir (Both shake hands)

Scene 8: The dugout

(James is all set to go. Thomas is sitting at the table reading a book. Enter Percy carrying Lee-Enfield Rifle.)

Percy: It is stopped raining at last, sir, - looks like we might have a pleasant day for it.

Thomas: Yes it is nearly morning

James: So it is. Right, time to make my call (Pick's up the receiver on a field telephone and cranks the handle) Hello . . . yes, Field Marshal Sir Topham Hatt please . . . Yes it is urgent

Scene 9: Hatt's HQ

(The phone rings, a big fat man wearing a suit and a top hat carried ten ton chocolate answers it)

Fat Controller: Hatt . . .

James: Hello Sir Hatt!

Hatt: Who is this?

James: Captain James sir. Former of the 19/45th Maron battalion

Hatt: Good Lord Jimmy! I have not seen you since . . .

James: '12 Sir, Isle of Man

Hatt: Oh yes, We certainly gave those pygmies a good squashing!

James: Yes sir, and do you remember . . .

Hatt: Yes, you saved my life that day Jamie! If it were not for you that pigmy engineers with the sharpened apple could have seriously . . .

James: Yes sir. Do you remember that you said if ever I was in trouble I was to call you and you would do everything in your power to help me?

Hatt: Yes, yes I do and I stick by it. You know me not a man to change my mind

James: Yes, we have noticed that

Hatt: Anyway, what do you want? Spit it out man!

James: Well sir, it is the big push today and I am not really that keen to go over the top

Hatt: Oh . . . I see . . . well . . .

James: It was a viciously sharpened slice of apple was not it sir?

Hatt: This is most irregular but . . . erm . . . All right! If I do fix this for you . . . I do never want to hear from you again is that clear?

James: Suits me . . . Fatty!

Hatt: Very well, I will not repeat this so listen carefully . . . put your underpants on your head and stuff a couple of pencils up your nose. They will think you are crazy and send you home. Right favour returned! (Hangs up)

Scene 10: The dug out

(James hangs up)

James: I think the term rhymes with 'Clucking bell'

Percy: Does that mean you'll going over the top, now, sir?

(The phone rings again. James leaps on it)

James: FIELD MARSHAL!

Henry: Well . . . not quite James. Or rather, not yet. I am just calling to let you know I have sent a little surprise over

(Enter Oliver in battle gear)

Thomas: Sir!

(James hangs up)

James: Captain Oliver

Oliver: Captain James

James: Here to join us for the last waltz?

Oliver: yes . . . got fed with folding the general's pyjamas

Thomas: Well, this is brave comradely news! Together we will fight for controller and railway and be sucking sausages in Crovan's Gate by teatime!

(James gets out the Tommy gun)

James: Yes well I hop their cafes are well stocked. Everyone is determined to eat out the moment we arrive

Thomas: This is brave, splendid and noble . . . Sir?

James: Yes Thomas

Thomas: I am afraid sir

Percy: I am afraid too, sir.

Thomas: I mean, I am the last of the Ffarquhar tiddlers from the golden summer of 1914. I do not want to die, and I am not all keen on dying at all sir

Percy: I'm the last of Dryaw Pals battalion, which is the same of I am not all keen on dying at all as well sir

James: How are you feeling Oliver?

Oliver: Not all too well James . . . thought I had got through the whole show. Go back to work in 'Montague and Sons', keep wickets for the Arlesburgh West gentlemen marry Isabel. I made a note in my diary on the way here . . . simply says . . . 'BUGGER!'

James: Well . . . quite

(they hear an order; Sergeant Major Billy: Stans to! Fix bayonets!)

James: Right let us move. Don't forget your shotgun Lt.

Thomas: Right oh sir! Wouldn't want to face a machine gunner without this.

Scene eleven: the trench

(The artillery guns suddenly go silent)

Oliver: Listen . . . Our guns have stopped

Thomas: You do not think . . .

Percy: Maybe the war's over. Maybe it is peace!

(James and Oliver load submachines gun, Thomas load his shotgun, and Percy load his rifle)

Thomas: Well hurrah! The big knobs have turned the tables and yanked the iron out of the fire

Oliver: Thank God! We lived through it! The great war 1920-1923

Thomas, Percy, Oliver, all the soldiers including guest characters excluding Henry, Topham & James: Hip, hip HURRAY! Hip, hip HURRAY!

James: I am afraid not! The guns have stopped because we are about to attack. Even our generals are not mad enough to shell their own men, they think it is far more sporting to let the Skaries to do it!

Thomas: So we are in fact going over. This is as they say. It

James: Yes, unless you can think of something very quickly

(Another command. Billy: Company, one pace forward!)

Percy: There some nasty splinters on there ladder Sir!

(Billy: "Stand ready!")

Percy: I have a plan, sir.

James: Really, Percy? A cunning and subtle one?

Percy: Yes, sir.

James: As cunning as a fox who's just been appointed Professor of Cunning at McGill University?

Percy: Yes, sir.

(Billy: "On the signal company will advance!")

James: Well, I am afraid it must wait. Whatever it was I think that getting out of here by pretending to be mad would be better than my plan. I mean . . . who would notice another mad man around here? But I'm never thought the day will be like that but we all now must show our courage and face death bravery and even into the abyss!

(Sounds of whistles being blown)

James: Good luck everyone!

(Everyone yells as they go over the top. Skaries guns fire before they are even off the ladders. The scene changes to slow motion, and explosions happen all around them. [An echoed piano slowly plays the Island Song.] The smoke and flying earth begin to obscure vision as the view changes to the battlefield moments later: empty and silent with barbed wire, guns and bodies strewn across it. [A bass drum beats slowly.] That view in turn changes to the same field as it is today: overgrown with grasses and flowers, peaceful, with chirping birds.)

To those who fall I say; you will not die but step into immortality. Your mothers will not lament your fate, but will be proud to have bourne such sons. Your names will be revered for ever and ever by your grateful country, and God will take you unto himself.  
>-Excerpt Arthur Currie's special order to the Canadian Corp. spring 1918,<p>

THE END

**Here to those to the townfolks from my hometown that fought and died in the First Great War**:

Private Patrick Joseph Fitzgerald, 46th Battalion, died in October 16, 1917 at vicinity of Passchendaele Ridge at the age of 24  
>Private David O'Grady, 1st Battalion, died in May 3, 1917 at Oppy Wood at the age of 32<br>Private Nicholas Scott, 18th Battalion, died in May 8, 1917 at Oppy Wood at the age of 21

Lest we forget, that theirs names will be respected.

Next the other Goodbye traditional...


End file.
